


A Dog-In-Law

by Amuscaria



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, POV Arya Stark, sansan through Arya's eyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 34,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuscaria/pseuds/Amuscaria
Summary: Arya's episodic observations of Sansa and Sandor in a modern setting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always want to write short chapters and instead I keep writing longer and longer chapters that take too long to correct. So while I try to get the updates of my other stories ready for posting, I amuse myself with some short and simple chapters. These are just some Arya’s very short, episodic observations of Sansa and Sandor. Modern AU unrelated to my other fics. Nothing explicit or particularly serious.

“Will you stop fidgeting!” Clegane growled.

“I’m not fidgeting!” Arya snapped.

Seven hells, but Arya really hated Clegane. He was ugly, cruel and he hadn't managed to prevent the murder of her mother and brother. She hated him for it. But sometimes, she needed him, too. He'd put into prison her parents’ killers, she had to give him that. He perhaps wasn’t the worst detective out there. He'd saved her from getting killed several times and in his free time he'd even helped her prepare for the entrance exams for the university. But one day, Arya would become a much better detective than him. She was a wolf, she wouldn’t satisfy herself with one or two criminals, she’d root out the mafia altogether. Sandor Clegane was still just a stupid police dog. And ugly. Half of his face was a twisted mass of scars and there was nothing pretty about the other half, either. He was so successful only because he was so ugly anyway. Everyone rather confessed to everything, rather than look any longer at his burnt mug.

“Are you so afraid, you little she-wolf?

“No, I’m not!”

“Then why are you shaking like a scared bitch?” Clegane mocked her. “You think your sister will get killed before you see her, just like everybody else?”

“Stop it!”

“Ah, so you’re scared of the truth as well, is that it?”

“I’m not scared, I just haven’t seen my sister in four years, of course I’m nervous to see her again!”

“Serves you good. If she’s anything like you...”

“She’s not like me at all!” Arya interrupted him. “She’s much worse, you’ll see.”

“Impossible,” Clegane smirked, miraculously succeeding in making his stupid face even uglier. “She hasn’t been hurt, you know.”

“What do you know about it?”

“I know the reports, I know what Tarth has told me.”

“Great, so they haven’t cut her throat, that’s basically all you know. It doesn’t mean she hasn’t been hurt. Have you ever seen her? Have you ever even seen Sansa?”

Clegane shook his head.

“Then you have no idea what they did to her!” Arya sneered. She had known Baelish and she knew that police hadn’t been hiding her sister for nothing. But it was all over now. The investigations were over, Baelish, Joffrey and Tywin Lannister were all rotting in seven hells and the last that was to do was to put Cersei Lannister into prison. Sansa’s and Arya’s cases merged into one giant trial. The Stark siblings still had to continue to live in hiding, but at least now they could be hiding together. Sansa was alright. She had to be.

“Arya!” a joyful scream interrupted her argument with Clegane. “Arya!”

A beautiful and very adult redhead was running towards Arya. For a moment Arya almost thought it was her mother rushing towards her, but the hair colour was deeper, the face much younger and prettier. 

“What the...” she heard Clegane rasp, but this time she ignored him completely.

Arya blinked. It wasn’t a dream, her sister was there. Alive. Adult and alive. “Sansa!” she hugged the young woman fiercely. “Sansa, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I am, Arya, but how are you? Gods be good, you have grown so much! You are so beautiful, you look like a picture of aunt Lyanna!” 

Arya didn’t say anything. Tears flooded her eyes and her throat constricted. After all those years of hopelessness she had a family again. She had her two little brothers, whom she would soon get to see again. She had the best cousin in the world, who called her regularly. And now she had a sister, a sister she could see and hug. Sansa was real and she was there with her. It wasn’t all lost. She had a family.

“This? This is your sister?” Clegane murmured in disbelief.

Arya nodded. Her sister. Her sister.

“Seven bloody hells.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arya didn’t remember getting back to the hotel room. She didn’t really remember much of anything. There had been tears, more tears than words. Arya hadn’t cried in years, she’d thought she didn’t have the capacity to do so anymore. She was the strong one in the family, wasn’t she? But she had cried just as much as girly Sansa, perhaps even more. They cried together. They were together.

Clegane had driven them to the hotel in silence and thankfully he’d left them alone the whole afternoon. Arya didn’t want his growling and cursing to spoil her reunion. She didn’t want to see him now, either. It had been an exhausting day and night and Arya really didn’t need Clegane to be the one waking her up.

“Can’t you leave us alone?” she asked instead of greeting. 

“You know well enough I can’t,” Sandor snarled. “Your pretty sister isn’t here for holidays, I need to ask her a few questions.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be now, does it?”

“No, it should have been yesterday.” He was scowling as usual, but something was different about him. He’d had his hair cut, hadn’t he? He smelled different, too. Apparently, even a dog wanted to fit into a posh hotel. He was even more pathetic than Arya had thought.

“She’s asleep.”

“And whose fault is that?” Clegane rasped more quietly. “I told you I’d come to speak to her at eight.”

“And I don’t give a shit about that! My sister is tired after her journey, don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t,” Clegane snapped. “I won’t let you delay everything much longer. At least wait here now,” he ordered her, “I’ll get her an extra pillow.”

“What?” Arya’s eyes widened. “Wait, why would Sansa need an extra pillow?”

“Well, she won’t get much comfort here otherwise, will she? The beds are horrible, they’re clearly made for midgets. My feet were hanging out of it the whole night.”

“Sansa doesn’t have that problem.”

“Just wait here, I’ll get her something,” he growled.

“Mr. Clegane?” a sleepy voice called from the bedroom.

“Great, look what you’ve done, dog!” Arya hissed.

Sansa had already put on a simple dresses. Her eyes were still a little puffy and her hair was tousled around her face, but she certainly looked more fresh than Arya. “Please forgive me for my behaviour yesterday, Mr. Clegane,” Sansa smiled at Clegane brightly. “I’ll gladly answer all your questions of course. Come in, please.”

He was looking at Arya’s sister with a funny expression. “Well...” he cleared his throat after a moment. “It’s about time, girl,” he stepped inside, scowling furiously.

Arya rather turned to her sister. “Don’t forget you don’t have to answer the Hound’s every stupid question.”

“Arya!” Sansa gasped. Ah, there was the good old horrified expression that Sansa used to have whenever Arya had given her a glimpse of reality. Some things never changed. “Please forgive my sister, Mr. Clegane,” Sansa turned to the Hound. “Our emotions are still a bit raw, Arya didn’t mean it that way.”

“Of course I meant it, I’ve spent the last year with him. He’s arrested my friend, Mycah, if you didn’t know!”

“Oh,” Sansa bit her lip. “Really?”

Arya nodded. “We were just smoking weed and...”

“He was selling it,” Clegane growled. “I would have been able to ignore him, if only the little rat hadn’t squeaked so much.”

“Ah, of course,” it took a moment to Sansa to process that information. “Then it was very good of you to arrest him, Mr. Clegane!” Sansa smiled cheerfully. “Arya shouldn’t be associating herself with such people anyway. She must have been distressed, our family is otherwise firmly against smoking.”

Arya rolled her eyes. Sansa had grown up to be quite tolerable, she’d actually been very nice so far, but she was still... Sansa. The redhead's beaming smile startled Clegane, too, he seemed a little lost for a moment. And this time, Arya was almost glad, when he barked at her sister: “You’re like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite. At least the she-wolf here says what she really thinks.“

“But Mr. Clegane...”

“Do I look like a bloody Mister to you, girl?”

Sansa stared at the man with her mouth wide open. Arya chuckled. It seemed Sansa wouldn’t be bad-mouthing Mycah again any time soon.

“I have a first name, too, you know, little bird?” Clegane’s mouth twitched. “But everybody calls me a dog, or a hound, you'd better use that, too.”

“Sandor then,” Sansa decided and took Sandor’s hand, shaking it. “I’m Sansa. And I thank you for everything you’ve done for my family, Sandor,” she beamed at him again, looking warmly into the man’s eyes. “We’re all very grateful to you.”

Sandor stared at her for a moment in sheer astonishment, letting Sansa mishandle his arm and pump it enthusiastically. Then he jerked his hand away, as if she'd burnt him. “Spare me your courtesies,” he spat. “I have a job to do, so sit down and answer my bloody questions, girl.”

“Yes, sir,” Sansa smiled. And Sandor scowled.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t look so bad. Arya was unaccustomed to wearing make-up, but she had to admit it didn’t look bad at all. Sansa luckily didn’t overdo it and Arya still felt like herself. She wondered whether someone would notice the difference.

“Wait a moment, I’ll curl your lashes,” Sansa brought a metal contraption to her face.

“What? Hell no, this looks like a torture device!”

“Don’t worry, it will open up your eyes,” Sansa smiled, her endless optimism adding to Arya’s annoyance. 

“I have my eyes open enough, thank you very much. Just put a mascara on and be done with it.”

“Alright,” Sansa sighed. “But you should try it one day.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Sansa started carefully applying mascara on Arya's lashes. “So that Gendry of yours, how come he's so fit?”

“He isn’t mine, I told you, he’s just a guy from the shooting range. And I shouldn’t have mentioned him at all,” Arya scowled. Why didn’t Sansa finally let it go?

“Alright, I get it, you wanted to be all made up just because it improves your aim,” Sansa giggled. Even her laughter was soft and feminine, how could she even be Arya's sister?

“Will you stop it? He never pays any attention to me, he always calls me miss.”

“He’s polite, I like that. If he’s not yours, may be he’s my type then,” Sansa teased her.

“No, he’s not. He’s a tough guy.”

“Ah, right, he has the strong jaw and all those bulging muscles,” Sansa had to remember the stupidest things Arya had told her. Why was she so fixated on Gendry anyway? He was just as daft as Sansa was, he didn't understand anything.

“He’s very active, that’s all. He does many sports.”

“Like you.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Many people do sports, not everybody wants to waste all their time studying law like you.”

“Sure, but you will have to, sweetheart, if you want to be a detective,” Sansa smirked.

Arya grunted. All the law subjects were annoying her almost just as much as Sansa. Mafia didn’t care about laws, so why did Arya have to spend several years studying them? It was completely useless. She had her list, she knew exactly whom she’d go after.

Sansa looked into the mirror and smiled at Arya’s reflection. “You look fantastic, Arya, if that muscled guy isn’t completely blind, he’ll want to call you his lady instead.”

Arya still hated those comments about Gendry, but she was quite satisfied with the results of Sansa’s efforts. Arya was dressed in the same casual style as usual and yet there was something more womanly about her today. She had to work on that. She didn’t have curves like Sansa, so Gendry probably saw her as a child. Today she looked like an adult, like a strong, adult woman. Would he comment on it?

No, of course he didn’t. Arya was utterly disappointed. “Here you go, Miss Stark,” Gendry said, bringing all the guns they’d be trying out. He didn’t say even one more word than usual. Instead he was smiling at Arya tenderly as if she was a small, cute child. Didn’t he see she was a bloody woman?

“I’m here, too, you know,” Sandor rasped in annoyance.

“Yes, of course, yes,” Gendry stuttered. “I need you to fill in this form, please, Mr… Mr… “ he swallowed his words anxiously. “Since Miss Stark doesn’t have a gun licence, she needs an instructor to watch over her constantly.”

“I know what it is, boy, in case you haven’t noticed the child always comes accompanied by the Hound. You’d better remember it.”

Arya glared at him. At both of them. She wasn't a child. She was a woman. She was studying at the university. She had her own money. She’d be a detective. So why in the seven hells was everybody against her? Sandor always had to ruin everything, didn't he?

“Of course,” Gendry agreed hastily. “Can I offer you something else, Miss Stark?”

“We’re good,” Sandor paid, signed everything and lead Arya quickly away. It was a horrible day.

Sandor started checking the guns, blissfully ignorant of the crushing hate Arya was projecting onto him. “Didn’t your sister mind that you left her alone today?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t said anything wrong at all.

Arya tried to calm herself down. This wasn’t the right place where to punch Clegane in his big nose. “No, she says she has to study. I was trying to convince her to come with me, but she didn’t.”

“Why?” Sandor scowled.

“Well, she could learn how to hold a gun, don’t you think?”

“No, I mean… that’s a good idea, I could teach her everything. Some self-defence, too. But why didn’t she want to come?”

“I don’t know, she’s weird. She hates guns.”

Sandor slowly nodded. “That’s understandable, I guess. Is she… is she hurting?”

“No, you’ve said it yourself, she hasn’t been hurt.”

“I mean mentally.”

Arya shrugged. “She’s beaming all the time like an idiot.”

“The trial is starting next week, it must be hard on her. I’ll stop by today.”

“Ha,” Arya laughed, as she took a pistol into her hand. “Yeah, your charming looks should wipe the smile off her face, you’re right.”

The Hound’s mouth twitched and he finally looked as annoyed as Arya. Good. Very good.


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor looked like a complete fool. He didn’t have the height of a normal person, no, he was the most enormous man Arya had ever seen. He wasn’t tall and athletic like a basketball player, he just looked like a troll. An ugly, dimwit troll with a half-burnt face, too big muscles and a delicate yellow box decorated with tiny flowers in his huge, calloused paw. A fool.

Since Sansa’s arrival, Clegane had been particularly annoying, trying too hard to protect the girls, inevitably ruining all the fun. But Sansa had praised him. Arya was the one who was right, of course, Clegane was still a stupid dog, but then again… Sandor had also helped them to find a nice flat. When the police decided to hide them in some shithole, he’d arranged the change of plans within a single day, found them a cosy flat and during his free time he even helped them move in. Arya could see why Sansa was so happy to think she’d found her first friend in Lannisport. Clegane was different than any friends Sansa had had before, but she felt safe with Sandor, she’d said. And for some reason, it was important to Arya. It was important that Sansa found not only justice in Lannisport, but also peace. Sansa had witnessed the gruesome murders of their father and aunt and when she’d thought she’d found a friend in King’s Landing, it turned out he'd been just helping Littlefinger in his devious plans. And then even he got killed in front of Sansa’s eyes. Sansa had suffered enough and Clegane was at least trustworthy, if nothing else. If she felt safer with him, it was already an accomplishment. And so Arya begrudgingly let the man in and she even made him a cup of tea.

“I thought your sister was here, not you,” Clegane said, clearly uncomfortable. 

“She went to buy a few things, she’ll be right back. Here,” Arya offered him the cup.

“It’s for me?” the Hound asked in surprise.

“Why not?” Arya shrugged.

Sandor eyed her for a moment, then smirked and tasted the tea. “It’s good, you little she-wolf.”

Arya nodded, satisfied with her cooking accomplishment. “It’s a pity I couldn’t be here yesterday for the moving, but I really had to be at school. Are those lemon cakes?” she pointed at the box the Hound was still awkwardly holding in his hand. “Was it so bad you need them now?”

“What was bad?” Sandor asked, perplexed. “What has Sansa told you?”

“About moving in here? Not much, we haven’t had time to talk yet. The flat is nice, it almost looks everything went fine. But I know you, so I can imagine you’ve scared the shit out of Sansa. So much so that you've had to bring lemon cakes to apologize.”

Sandor scoffed. “You don’t know half as much as you think you do. We spent the whole day together yesterday. And your pretty sister even sang for me. You didn’t know that, did you? She sang me a sweet little song when I was setting up your furniture.”

“She did?” Arya curled her lip. “Ugh, it’s not enough she wears all those floral dresses, now she sings, too. I told you, she’s daft.”

“Your sister is just polite and kind. Perhaps she should be the one teaching you,” Sandor scowled, his voice rough and hard as an iron rasp. 

Arya looked up at the sound of the opening door. “I’m back!” Sansa announced cheerfully.

“And we have a visitor,” Arya informed her.

“Oh,” Sansa froze at the threshold, but her smile quickly broadened when she realized who it was. “Sandor! You’ve come for a visit after all?”

“Yeah, well… Tomorrow starts the trial, so I had to check on you, didn't I? Check whether everything is fine and you’re ready for the testimony.”

“There’s no rule like that,” Arya pointed out.

“No, but it’s a common courtesy,” Sansa cut her off. “I’m so glad you’ve come Sandor. I was afraid we wouldn’t get to speak to you before the trial.”

Sandor snorted. “Sure, you’d be crying yourself to sleep if you didn’t get to see an old dog. Spare me, girl.”

Sansa raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Sandor, have you said you came to check on us, or bark at as? I’m not quite sure right now.”

Arya smiled. Sansa still kept dressing herself more like a princess from a fairy tale than a future lawyer, but she had really grown up, hadn’t she? Sandor seemed stunned for a moment. Then he glanced down at the box he was holding and shove it into Sansa’s hands.

“Here. It’s some yellow stuff Tarth said you like,” Sandor grunted, avoiding Sansa’s eyes. Arya wondered what he’d done to Sansa that he looked so guilty now.

“Ah, lemon cakes. That’s so sweet of you! Have you tasted them?”

“No, I don’t like cakes.”

“You should try at least one,” Sansa opened the box. “They’re amazing, I could eat them all day long!”

Sandor begrudgingly took one and stuffed the entire cake into his mouth.

“Brienne has really told you all my secrets, hasn’t she?” Sansa chuckled. “She spoke about you, too, you know. She told me you’re the best detective in Westeros and that you won’t stop before you get all the accomplices into the prison. She said you’re incorruptible. And brave. You’ve been so brave in your pursuit of justice.”

“Brave, my arse,” Sandor’s voice was thick with contempt. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, little bird.” He clenched his jaw. “But I’ll keep you safe, girl, I swear. I’ve taken all precautions. This flat is safer than the other one. And almost nobody knows your identity.”

“Gendry does,” Arya pointed out.

“And how has that happened, huh?” Sandor snapped. “You’re lucky Waters is a police officer, otherwise we’d have to move you again.”

“Yes, I feel safe with you, Sandor,” Sansa quickly returned to Sandor's promise. “We should really celebrate this new beginning, don't you think? I have many more cakes here, you know?”

“What about them?” Sandor asked in confusion.

“Well, we’ll make a cake tasting party, of course! You can finally find the cake you like the best.”

“Cake tasting?”

“Yes, isn’t it a great idea?”

“Huh.”

And once again, Sandor’s expression mirrored Arya’s own.


	5. Chapter 5

The trial brought to Lannisport many interesting people and Arya was glad she could finally match the faces to some of the names Sansa had mentioned. It was annoying that because of all the silly security measures, she could see most of the witnesses only on the screen, Arya simply couldn’t meet them in person. Brienne Tarth however fascinated her the most and she was luckily someone Arya could talk to as much as she wanted. Sansa was really fond of the inspector and Arya could see why. Brienne was very sweet and yet determined to see justice served. Arya’s father had been like that, too. He’d been one of the last uncorrupted judges in Westeros and he’d even allowed the prosecution of Cersei Lannister and her family. He hadn’t realized the full extent of the Lannisters’ crimes, though, and Starks paid the highest price for it. Unlike Ned Stark, Brienne knew exactly what Westerosi mafia was capable of and she stood by the Starks anyway, even at times, when all had seemed lost. It was refreshing to see that people like Brienne still existed and Arya enjoyed talking to her. Sandor had been perhaps helping the Starks as well, but he was an arse first and foremost. Even now.

“We have fifteen minutes before the break ends,” Brienne informed them. “But I’m afraid Mrs. Lannister’s speech will last at least four more days.” 

“What?” Clegane said absent-mindedly, staring over Arya’s head. 

“Brienne was answering my question,” Arya told him, annoyed. “How long do you think Cersei’s speech will last, Sandor?"

Arya didn't get a response, so she kept pressing the giant man further. "Cersei likes to hear herself talk, doesn’t she? There should be a time limit for these things.”

Sandor nodded. “Alright.”

“When will we get to speak to the judge?” Arya tried it again.

“What?” 

“When will the judge want to talk to us again?”

Sandor’s mouth tightened and twisted in an angry expression. What had Arya done wrong again? “We’ll see,” he said.

Arya frowned. “Are you even listening to me?”

“What?” 

Brienne looked around nervously. “Brune will answer all the question truthfully, Sandor, we can count on him, I promise. You don’t have to be glaring at him like that.”

Arya followed their gaze. Unfortunately, she was much shorter than both detectives, so all she could see initially was her uncle’s back. But then Brynden stepped aside and Arya finally got a glimpse of Sansa chatting to a middle-aged witness whom she’d befriended in Eyrie. The large man was smiling kindly at Sansa and she also looked overjoyed to see him, so what was the Hound’s problem?

“And your word is all it takes, isn’t it?” Clegane growled at Brienne. “These people should never have been allowed any contact with the children, I’ve been saying it the whole time.”

“The family wanted it. And Lothor would never hurt Sansa. He’s already risked his life to help our cause,” Brienne told him. 

“Ah, has he? A brave man, risking everything when Littlefinger was already dead. And I guess now is the time to play the hero.”

“He isn’t playing anything, he’s just Sansa’s friend.”

“Sure. A friend flirting with a little girl.”

“He is not flirting,” Brienne defended the man.

“I like Lothor, he seems nice,” Arya said, just to spite the Hound for fun. “And if Sansa cares for him, they have my blessing.”

Yup, that did it. “A blessing?” Clegane freaked out, his rough voice startling everyone around him. Except Arya, Arya only smiled. “What the fuck are you talking about, girl?” Sandor was looming over her, his enormous figure not intimidating Arya one bit. “Your sister is too bloody young for these things. No normal man can be attracted to such a child.”

“Sansa is nineteen.”

“Nineteen, seven bloody hells,” Clegane groaned, scratching his jaw around the scar. It seemed that no matter how well he shaved every morning, at the end of the day he always had a substantial stubble anyway. It obviously irritated him. His own hair was trying to punish him for his behaviour. “It should be illegal to be attracted to such a child,” he muttered. 

“She’s nineteen. She’s an adult, if you haven't noticed,” Arya grumbled. She didn’t understand why Clegane had to treat them both like stupid children. She and Sansa were living on their own now, they deserved some respect.

“No, I haven't. No normal man would flirt with a vulnerable girl like that.” Clegane didn’t take his eyes off the man. When Lothor pulled out a phone, Sandor seemed to be almost expecting it to be a gun. The Hound shook his head. “He’s got a nerve, the ugly bugger’s showing off even his pictures to the pretty bird.”

“What about it?”

“Your family shouldn’t have let such people in,” Sandor barked at her.

Arya didn’t dignify that with a response. She rather turned her attention to Brienne and asked her about her experiences as a detective. Sandor meanwhile continued to stare at the potential murderer. Clegane's mouth was twitching and he looked more and more like a bull ready to charge. Only when Sansa looked up, he scowled and looked away. But Sansa came over to them anyway.

“Everything alright, little bird?” Clegane asked immediately.

“Yes, Sandor, more than alright, I’ve just heard some wonderful news about my friend!” 

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, girl,” Sandor rasped again, but he was actually looking much more at ease now. When Sansa grinned at him, he even stopped scowling for a moment. "Well," he cleared his throat. "How long do you think Cersei’s speech will last?” he asked the three women in an almost friendly tone.


	6. Chapter 6

Sansa anxiously eyed the detectives. “Something bad must have happened. Something awful.”

“You think it’s about Bran and Rickon?” Arya was getting worried herself. Their brothers were staying in the North for the Greyjoy trial, but the family would meet anyway. They were to spend an entire weekend together, nothing bad would come between them before that. Not now. Not again.

“I don’t know. But it must be something terrible, just look at Sandor, he looks so pale!”

Arya bit her lip. “I knew it was bad news. I knew it!”

“No, not really,” uncle Brynden appeared by their side. “It’s just Clegane. Gregor Clegane. They finally found the body.”

“Oh,” Arya gaped at him. “Oh!”

Sansa wasn’t so quick to believe the news, either. “But can we be certain?” she asked cautiously. “What if they forged the DNA test again, Brynden?”

“Exactly!” Arya scowled, smelling another Lannister conspiracy. “Why did nobody ask me to identify him?

“It wasn’t necessary,” Brynden assured. “I trust the people who ran the DNA test and as for the identification… Well, there wasn’t really much left of Gregor’s head, but Sandor was able to identify his body beyond doubt.”

Gregor’s body probably wasn’t all that difficult to identify, Arya had never seen anyone so big. “So it’s good news?” she asked cautiously, “Gregor is dead? Really dead?”

Brynden nodded. “It’s official. They’ll even announce it in the press conference tomorrow.”

“That’s amazing!” 

Sansa wasn’t rejoicing at the news at all, she never had the right appreciation for a nice murder of a murderer. “Sandor had to see the body in the morgue?” Sansa asked instead in a voice full of worry.

“Of course. He’s just come back. But don’t worry, he’s more than used to such things.”

Sansa still didn’t seem to be happy enough about the news. 

“Sansa, don’t you realize it? The Mountain is really dead! They’ll cut his heart out and display the body in a museum or something.”

“Poor Sandor,” Sansa whispered.

“Why? He hated Gregor. He’s celebrating already, we should be, too.”

It was true, Clegane emptied a second glass of whiskey and started pouring himself another one. Arya hoped Brynden would let her enjoy a celebratory drink, too.

“I don’t think he’s celebrating, Arya,” Sansa pointed out gently.

“Trust me, you’re saying that only because you didn’t know the man so well.”

While Brynden was sharing some more delightful details about Gregor’s painful death, Arya thought of all those people Gregor Clegane had killed, all the women he’d raped. One horrific death could never pay for all the suffering Gregor had caused, but it felt good to know he wouldn’t hurt any more people. Arya was still afraid it wasn’t really true and Gregor would once again reappear. But he wouldn’t, not this time. The police had found his enormous body, a body which could belong to no-one else, and Sandor identified him, too. The Hound wouldn’t lie about this, of that Arya was certain. She would never see Gregor again. He was dead and he’d stay dead. 

When Arya looked up, she realized her sister was no longer by her side. No, Sansa was right next to Sandor, touching his arm in a comforting gesture of sympathy. Arya snorted. She had always hated Sansa’s perfect posh manners, but these days she found them quite amusing. Especially when Sansa was trying to console Sandor in what was actually his happiest moment. Did she honestly believe anyone would ever grieve Gregor?

Sandor had obviously only wanted to bask in his victory. And Sansa startled him, causing him to almost drop the glass. While she recited all her polite little phrases, Sandor’s face was getting redder and redder in suppressed irritation, his eyes darting nervously to the hand stroking his bicep through the sleeve. Nobody ever dared to touch him for a good reason, so it was no surprise when Sandor barked at Sansa in annoyance and she had to quickly retreat.

Brynden checked his watch. “Well, we’re all finished here today, so let’s go, girls,” he said. “I’ll drive you back home.”

Sansa shook her head, her auburn hair flowing around her face. “I have to stay a bit longer to help Sandor with something.”

“Really? He didn’t say anything.”

Sansa never lied, her deceit was in her perfect smile. She smiled in response and oddly enough, it always worked. Brynden saw the answer he expected to see.

“I’ll see you on Monday then,” he nodded.

It was unbelievable how fast their uncle agreed. He always questioned Arya, but when Sansa said something, he immediately accepted all her explanations, even if unspoken. Arya wasn’t buying it. Sansa just wanted to do another good deed, she always had to be the one sticking her nose into everybody's business, saving everyone. This time she was determined to save Sandor from his celebration and a well-deserved drink.

Arya smirked. “You want to invite Sandor for a dinner, don’t you,” she accused Sansa quietly.

“Oh, no,” Sansa assured her. “I already have.”


	7. Chapter 7

Arya was getting nervous. Too many hours had passed and Sansa wasn’t even picking up her phone. It wasn’t like her at all. But when Arya finally lowered herself to calling Sandor, she heard his phone ring just outside of the flat. It caught Arya off guard and she quickly tried to think of all the possible explanations. It could be Gregor’s trap. Cersei’s trick. Kidnapping. Murder. Betrayal. Anything could have happened. But when Arya peeked out, she saw Sansa bending down to something. Arya threw the door wide open only to see the Hound squatting before Sansa, her hand on his shoulder.

“What are you two doing?” Arya demanded. “Sansa, where is your guard? Who is protecting you?”

“Sandor is protecting me tonight.”

Arya glanced at the drunk wanker in front of her. “Yeah, I can see that. What are you doing?”

“Talking,” Sansa replied curtly, her expression making it clear what she thought of Arya's interruption.

“If you tell anyone, girl… anyone….” Sandor suddenly said to Sansa, his words slurred, but sounding even rougher than usual. Arya didn’t like the threat in his voice one bit.

“I know, Sandor, I know,” Sansa smiled and patted him like a dog. “See? You’ve accompanied me to the door. You’ve done your duty. Can I help you into the taxi now?”

“Help? I don’t need your help, girl,” Sandor sneered. “But you can do whatever you want, can you not? You can go flirt again with that greasy guard for what I care.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sansa informed him. “And not because of a guard.”

Sandor shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll have to walk you back home anyway.”

“You’ll walk me home tomorrow.”

“I will?”

“Yes, you will.”

“That’s nice of me,” Sandor nodded thoughtfully, his mood changing to one of brooding introspection. He put his hands on the floor to keep from falling over. Arya had really never seen him so drunk.

Sansa however looked a bit too sober for her liking. “Arya, help me out.”

Sandor glared at her. “I can stand up on my own, thank you very much.”

Sansa wasn’t listening to him. She tried to move the drunk man, taking him under his armpits. She struggled for a moment, but the only thing she accomplished was pressing his face into her chest. “Seven hells,” he grunted, completely frozen in place.

“Arya, help me!”

“I’m trying! He’s too heavy. Stand up, dog! Stand up!” Arya poked into him.

“Get your hands off me, both of you,” the man growled, pushing Arya roughly away. “I’m drunk as a dog, damn me, but I can still stand up.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Arya muttered, even though he was right. Sandor was standing on his own now, his eyes blazing down at Sansa in rage. Anger almost sobered him up.

“Are you alright?” Sansa batted her eyelashes, a picture of innocence.

“No. Nothing is alright!” he snarled accusingly. “And you don’t have to be proving it to me!”

“What do you mean?”

“Seven hells, you almost… You shouldn’t even look like a woman, I don’t approve,” he announced.

“But I am a woman, Sandor,” Sansa protested.

“No, you’re not, you’re a girl pitying filthy dogs, spending your evenings with them. A stupid little bird. That’s what you are!” Sandor put on a smug expression, as if he’d just said something very clever.

But Sansa wasn’t offended at all, instead she seemed rather amused. “Has anybody ever mentioned to you that there are other things to life than hate, rage and pity?”

Sandor scowled even harder. “And why the fuck do you smile all the time?” he asked then. “Why do you have to look so… so...” he looked over her in disgust. “Why do you have to look like that?” he punctuated his point with a hiccup.

Drunk, or not, he was being the same arsehole as usual. He always criticized Arya when she wore anything complimenting her figure in front of Gendry. And now he had a new target and he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. No wonder he didn’t have a girlfriend.

“I take after my mother,” Sansa told him.

“So what, I take after my mother, too. And you don’t see me looking like a bloody angel, do you?” Sandor shook his head.

“I suppose not,” Sansa smiled. “But I don’t look like one, either.”

“Ah, so now even angels can’t emulate you, great,” Sandor grumbled. “Why are you doing this, little bird?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Sandor.”

“Why are you you?” he asked, his anger once again replaced by a philosophical mood. “Everything was nice and reasonably miserable. Why did you have to ruin it?”

Sansa gently touched his shoulder. “May be I don’t want you to be miserable, Sandor.”

“But I do,” Arya interrupted them again. “And if you don’t move, I’ll find a good way how to make you so,” she jabbed Sandor in the arm. She wanted to go to bed, she didn’t have time for Sansa’s charitable interests and Sandor’s drunk ramblings.

The security guards weren’t all that thrilled about Sandor’s presence, either. One of them even hurried to their side. “Is there a problem, Miss Stark?” he inquired. 

“No, we’re just having a private conversation with superintendent Clegane, if you don’t mind,” Sansa smiled at him pleasantly. The guard wanted to make some more inquiries, but one glance at Sandor’s expression was enough to silence him. The guard nodded and vanished as quickly as possible.

“Your taxi is here, Sandor,” Sansa cupped his scarred cheek.

Sandor sniggered, pushing her hand away. “That part of my face is completely numb, little bird.”

Sansa smiled and put both her hands on his shoulders. It shocked Sandor, but then he moved as if in trance, bending down obediently, so that Sansa could rise up on her toes and kiss his other cheek. “Good night, Sandor,” she breathed out.

The Hound stared at her like an idiot he was, but no words came out of his mouth. And no wonder, he couldn’t have met such an annoying do-gooder ever before, he hadn’t perfected the right snarl for these situations.

As the taxi drove away, Arya quietly observed Sansa’s dreamy expression. It was official, Arya would never understand her sister. “You know," she sighed, "I liked it better when you used to put pink bows on the wild dogs I brought home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, but I'm back from hospital and hopefully I should stay longer than the last time, so I should post more. Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story!

Sandor didn’t greet Arya, instead he looked around in confusion.“Where is your sister?” he barked out and entered their flat.

“With the guests,” Arya scowled back at him. It was the third time Sansa had invited Sandor over and so far he had spent all the time brooding, swearing, or barking. Arya would never understand why Sansa insisted on inviting Sandor more often than anyone else.

Sandor immediately marched into the room, looking relieved when he saw Sansa. “Hello, little bird,” his eyes smiled, while the lips did not.

“Oh, you’ve come,” Sansa’s entire face brightened. “I’m so happy you could make it, Sandor! Don’t you want to take your coat off?” she asked.

“Sure,” he made no move. “Is everything alright?”

“Absolutely. Here, taste this. It’s a new recipe I made!” Sansa announced proudly and lifted up a mushroom roll to his mouth.

Sandor starred at her for a moment, but then actually took a bite just like a dog would.

“Delicious,” he said with a full mouth, never tearing his gaze away from her. Sansa whispered something to him in response, but she was so quiet Arya couldn’t hear her. It was annoying, Arya hated it when she couldn’t hear the conversations of those two. She just saw Sansa smile and dance away to another guest. Sandor stared after her and turned around only when Arya poked into him.

“What?” he growled.

“The coat,” she reminded him.

Sandor nodded and looked around the room. “It’s bloody stupid to throw a party for police men.”

“Tell me about it.”

Arya took a moment to observe the scene in front of her. The guests were clearly enjoying themselves, half of them stuffing themselves with all the food, half salivating at the sight of Sansa. Sansa herself was being the perfect little lady as usual, annoyingly happy to host a party for virtual strangers. During the trials she was usually quite shy, but the moment she got a chance to be Lady Stark, she was suddenly radiating with a genuine smile, batting those long lashes, offering everyone even more things to eat. And Sandor got on Arya's nerves, too, when he thought nobody was watching, he kept his eyes glued on Sansa just like everybody else. He didn’t even look angry. He looked… weird. Really weird. 

When Sansa came to kitchen for more food, Arya finally snapped. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have a guess! Look, Sandor is horrible. He hasn’t saved mum and he’s put Mycah in prison,” Arya summarized. “He pisses me off all the time, but that doesn’t mean you can toy with him like that!”

“What are talking about?” Sansa blinked like a stupid doll. Seriously, did she use something on her lashes that made them so long?

“About everything, Sansa! You keep texting him, touching him. For fuck’s sake, you even made him take pictures!”

“Pictures of his dog, Stranger,” Sansa corrected her. “Sandor didn’t want to send me a picture of himself,” she said with regret in her voice.

“But you did send him a selfie!”

“What about it? He was worried about me, so I sent him a proof that I was alive. What’s wrong with that?

“Women don’t sent the Hound their selfies, how do you think it looks? Or you feeding him! Or that whole kissing thing, why do you keep kissing his cheek instead of saying good bye like a normal person?”

Sansa pursed her lips. “It’s just a sweet gesture.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t know how it’s in Vale, but when you act around a man like this here, he might think you’re interested.”

Sansa at least had the decency to blush. “Has Sandor said something?” she asked quietly. “Does he think I’m interested? Does he… does he mind?”

“Of course not, Sandor is stupid, but not a complete idiot, he knows you could never be interested in him. It would take much more to convince him of something like that.”

“Like what?” Sansa bit her lip. “What would convince him?”

Arya glared at her in frustration. As great as it was to have a sister again, Sansa could really be insufferable. “That’s not the point, Sansa! It’s just not fair of you to act like this towards Sandor. Have you seen him today? He’s even wearing his best clothes because of you!”

“He is?” Sansa’s face brightened. “Why… why would he do that?”

Arya wanted to say something, but there were simply no words, so she closed her mouth shut again. Sansa was smiling. She was actually smiling in delight. “Has he said something?” Sansa continued asking.

“He doesn’t need to say anything, I know him, damn it! He never acts like this around any other woman. But all he speaks about now is the pretty bird this, the pretty bird that…” Arya rasped to make the best impression of Sandor. “It’s bloody annoying!”

“Oh.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sansa, you can mess with anyone, just not my friends.”

Sansa giggled. “Oh, so he is your friend now?”

“No, seven hells… no!” Arya protested. “None of these people is our friend, I don’t even know why we have to throw a stupid party for them. Just promise you won’t toy with Sandor again. Please.”

Sansa put on a very serious face. “Promise,” she nodded and lifted up a tray. “Oh, and Arya?” she asked before leaving the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Gendry is coming to our stupid party in ten minutes.”


	9. Chapter 9

Arya still wasn’t sure whether she should kiss her sister or hit her over the head with the tray full of irritatingly perfect little cakes.

“What’s the problem?” Sansa looked her over. “You look amazing."

“Sure, you’re the princess from the fairy tale and I’m the frog. Or the wolf.”

“I like wolves,” Sansa noted. “I’m sure Gendry does, too.”

It was a dumb metaphor to begin with and Sansa managed to make it sound even worse. “Should I do something with the hair?”

“You could stop messing with it. Trust me, you look great.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’s coming?” Arya reproached her.

“You said you’re not interested in him.”

“I’m not!” Arya emphasized a bit too loudly.

“Great,” Sansa nodded. “Well, I told you that I asked Brienne to invite every policeman that has helped us. And Gendry helps you, too, so it’s only polite to invite him. Besides, he messaged Brienne just a few minutes ago, he wasn’t sure his boss would let him leave earlier.”

With that Sansa finally left and Arya went to her bedroom. She took a long moment to examine her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look like Sansa. Arya’s face was long, while her hair was not and her body looked too skinny despite hours of weight training. She didn’t have striking colouring or a blinding smile. But surprisingly, Sansa had called Arya’s features elegant, her eyes gorgeous and her skin glowing. Arya could tell she hadn’t been lying, she’d meant it. And Sansa hadn’t been wrong when she said that Arya could pull off the tomboy look better than her. Arya took a deep breath. Alright, there was no reason to change anything. She sat down at the beautiful vanity mirror Sansa had given her. Arya looked fine. Perhaps not perfect, but fine. And she didn’t care what Gendry thought of her. She decided to put the mascara on only because her eyes seemed smaller than usual today. And Sansa waltzed into her room as soon as Arya started applying the bloody thing to her lashes, catching her in the act. But Sansa didn’t even tease her about it, which was odd.

“Has Gendry changed his mind?” Arya asked.

“Gendry? No, no, nothing to do with him,” Sansa said and sat herself down on Arya’s bed, staring into the wall, a bewildered look on her face.

“Alright,” Arya turned to the mirror.

“Arya?” Sansa asked with uncertainty.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve said Sandor is wearing his best clothes, haven’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Arya asked absent-mindedly. 

“There’s a dog on it.”

“I know.”

“Superintendent Clegane is wearing a red sweater with a dog’s head on it,” Sansa said, more to herself than to Arya. 

Arya shrugged. “It’s his favourite one. You should be glad he’s not wearing his motorbike helmet.”

“It has a dog on it, too?”

“Worse.”

“Worse?”

“Way worse.”

“Oh,” Sansa bit her lip. 

Good. Even if Sansa was willing to toy with Sandor, the criminal investigator, she certainly wouldn’t toy with Sandor, the dog freak. “If he has any tattoos, it’s a dog for sure,” Arya added. “Perhaps a large bulldog’s head across the whole chest,” she drove the point home.

“Oh,” Sansa said again. “He does have a very large chest, doesn’t he?” she seemed lost in her thoughts.

“Yeah, he’s big. With a big stupid dog on a big stupid sweater.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s cute,” Sansa decided.

“What?” Arya turned around, questioning her sister’s sanity.

The door bell mercifully interrupted the bizarre conversation and both girls hurried to greet the guest. Gendry smiled when he saw Arya and held up a small bouquet of sweet little flowers. “Good evening, miss Stark.”

“Hi, Gendry, at least here you could use my first name, don’t you think?” Arya asked.

“Yes, well… Arya,” he rolled her name on his tongue as if he was savouring a fine wine. “Arya.” 

“And I’m her sister Sansa,” Sansa shook his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Gendry.”

Gendry shuffled his feet nervously. “Miss Stark… I mean, Lady Sansa,” he glanced at the bouquet in his hand, then promptly divided it into two and handed the flowers to the girls. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He was funny and he didn’t even know it. Arya quite liked the way Gendry was looking at her today. The Hound usually took her to the shooting range in the end of the day, after a good hour in a gym, or running miles, so Gendry didn’t often get to see a fresh, well-rested Arya. And it was nice to have his full attention for once. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, one of his colleagues simply had to ruin the moment. The pretty boy couldn’t wait five minutes to ask for advice on guns.

Arya walked over to Sansa. “Could you stop smiling like that?” she grunted.

“Like what?”

“Like you know everything.”

“I don’t know everything,” Sansa admitted, “but I do know that he likes you. And he does indeed look like a bull.”

“I never said that! I just said just that he’s muscled.”

“That too.”

“And I said it only because you wanted me to describe him.”

“Yes and you described him perfectly, Arya,” Sansa commended her. “Go on, talk to your bull, I’ll distract the pistol guy.”

“They’re talking about revolvers,” Arya grumbled.

“Good, he can explain me the difference,” Sansa pranced away to lure the poor policeman into her clutches.

Arya was actually glad for the new opportunity to talk to Gendry. They finally spoke about other things than guns and she learnt a lot about him. He was raised by a single mother and had a lot of half-siblings, she’d had no idea about it before. He’d travelled a lot all around Westeros and tried out many occupations. It was interesting to hear him speak about his life, so different from Arya’s. Sansa meanwhile didn’t get to learn much about revolvers. Sandor spent a long moment trying to kill the handsome guy with his stare and when the boy touched Sansa’s hair, Sandor suddenly took form behind him like a giant creature from horrors. It was no surprise that the policeman had to go to the bathroom all of a sudden.

Arya was having a great time, Gendry even got to show her his impressive cocktail-mixing skills. But when Arya looked at Sansa again, the redhead was just touching Sandor’s chest, stroking it through the layer of his sweater. “That's so sweet. And such an amazing craftsmanship!" she purred, probably trying to appear seductive despite the blush colouring her cheeks. “Your grandmother was really talented.”

The Hound cleared his throat, tried to say something, but then he swallowed and nodded. Arya huffed in annoyance. Perhaps she should have hit Sansa with that tray after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a Gendrya chapter, but Arya needs those, too.

Arya walked into the pub right after Gendry, the wind slamming the door behind them. The snow storm had caught them by surprise, but it didn’t matter at all. Gendry found them a cosy little corner, where they could almost ignore the security officers following them at every step. And he ordered the most delicious mulled wine Arya had ever drank. It felt so good to be out in public, it was something so unbelievably normal Arya couldn’t believe her luck.

They were both sitting with wide grins on their red faces, happily sipping their wine. What would Sansa say to all this? Arya hadn’t expected to spend the whole afternoon and evening with Gendry, but she thought Sansa wouldn’t really mind. It had been her idea after all. Arya had been really pissed at first. Sansa had been doing whatever she wanted as usual, smiling at Gendry, gossiping, talking to him about her, about Arya. Sansa had even asked Gendry whether he’d like to take Arya to see the gun tests he’d been talking about. How stupid was that? Sansa had made Arya look like a total moron unable to ask herself. But then Gendry agreed, looking genuinely delighted at such suggestion. And now they were here and Sansa didn’t seem like such a bad sister anymore.

“Are you cold?” Gendry asked.

“Nah, only my hands are freezing, it’s fine.”

Gendry hesitated for a moment, but then he took her hands in his, rubbing them gently. Gendry’s eyes were like blue ice, but they were full of warmth anyway. She now actually felt a rather bit too warm.

“Better?” he asked hoarsely.

Arya nodded, quietly studying the young man. He reminded her a little of Robb, but Gendry was different. He looked like all those stupid princes from Sansa’s favourite films, except he wasn’t stupid. He knew just about everything about weapons, he was the best firearm and self-defence training instructor and he was awfully sweet. And muscular. Sansa had been teasing Arya about it mercilessly, but it wasn’t Arya’s fault that Gendry looked like a powerful bull. He was never tired, he’d be able to carry her across the world. And he had those huge, strong hands. Was it weird that Arya was attracted to his hands?

Arya still couldn’t believe she was on an actual date with him. Didn’t Gendry think she had a horse face? He was watching her as if she looked like Sansa or something. Arya idly glanced behind herself, making sure it was her who got Gendry’s attention. Would he kiss her now? He was still holding her hands, he was definitely moving closer and the way he parted his lips… seven hells, he was going to kiss her, he was going to kiss her! Or not. Gendry suddenly looked away, embarrassed blush appearing on his cheeks. He quickly let got of her hands, too, turning his attention to the wine instead. 

Alright, so he was a little stupid. Arya eyed him grimly for a moment, but then she gathered her courage and nonchalantly laid her hand upon his arm. His very, very muscled arm. And she even leaned slightly forward, hoping he’d get the hint. He did, looking up in surprise, blushing some more, but then he finally, finally leaned closer. It was like a slow motion scene in a film, the only thing that was missing was a romantic music playing in the background. Arya could feel the man’s warm breath ghost over her skin, she was really, really about to kiss him.

“Shitty weather, isn’t it,” a raspy voice came from above them.

“What the fuck?” Arya jerked away from Gendry.

Sandor was looming over them like a dark shadow of the underworld. And Stranger, the largest, ugliest and furriest black dog in existence licked Arya’s hand just as Sandor sat down on the empty chair next to her. “What do you think people do in pubs?” Sandor took a long swig of his beer. He wiped his lips then with the back of his hand, managing to look even more disgusting than usual.

Gendry finally moved then, but instead of doing something useful about the man ruining their date, he jumped up, almost saluting. “Superintendent Clegane.”

“Ah, leaving already?” Sandor narrowed his eyes at him.

“I only wanted to greet you, sir, I didn’t expect to see you. Sir.”

“Why? Do you have something to hide?” Sandor questioned him.

“Sit down, Gendry!” Arya hissed at the younger man before turning to the ugly one. “Gendry is not at work, dog, you can’t talk to him like this!”

Stranger laid his ugly head on her knee and she scratched him behind the ear. Alright, the mutt was so ugly he was actually oddly charming. The same couldn’t be said of his master, though.

“I talk like that to everyone, girl, work or not,” Sandor growled.

“And what are you doing here anyway? Don’t tell me it’s a coincidence.”

“It’s not, I’m paid for keeping you safe, remember?”

“No, you’re not, you are paid for solving crimes.”

“Same difference. I’m responsible for protection of our witnesses.”

“And Stranger is the one who’s going to keep me safe?”

“Certainly more than some officers,” Sandor glanced pointedly at Gendry, who couldn’t look more uncomfortable. “Since you decided to waste your evening in a pub with the foulest beer, these two clearly can't cover the security requirements,” he shot another look at the two not-so-undercover officers seated at the next table. They didn’t seem so happy about Sandor’s presence, either. 

“You just can’t let me live a normal life, can you,” Arya spat.

“You can live a normal life when I’m sure that you’ll have a life to live at all,” Sandor snarled. “Besides, this is hardly a norm for a lady. You don’t see your pretty sister sitting in the filthiest pub in Lannisport.”

“Because she has her head buried in books!”

“As well as she should. The pretty bird is smart enough not to show her face to all the rats around here.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Gendry mumbled apologetically.

Arya shook her head. “I’m not!” 

“Well, I’m not sorry, either,” Sandor countered. “We’re leaving, girl. Now.”

“I hate you,” Arya announced once again, standing up angrily. She didn’t care how many times Sandor had saved her life risking his own, she didn’t care how many people wanted to see her dead. She wanted to have one day of living like a normal teenager, she wanted one stupid little kiss. Was it really so much to ask?

Gendry helped Arya into the coat, keeping his head down as if he’d done something wrong. He’d done nothing wrong, it was Sandor whose entire existence was just wrong. Arya could claw his eyes out and scramble them for breakfast. She was glaring at him, letting him know what exactly she thought about him. 

Sandor didn't look remorseful, though, instead he just smirked. “You’re welcome.”


	11. Chapter 11

Once Arya was alone with Sandor, she didn’t hold back. She told him everything. How stupid he was, how inconsiderate, how she hated his yellow shirt, how he’d never get laid. Everything. And he didn’t as much as blink.

“Are you finished?” he asked calmly.

“No!” she needed to contradict him on principle, even though she didn’t really know what else to add.

“The fact remains that you should have never gone to that pub, girl, it’s dangerous and Gendry is an idiot for taking you there. I should really gut him like a fish for that.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Sure, the trial is not yet over, I’m a crucial witness, Cersei wants me dead. Blah, blah, blah. Do you have something new?”

“Firstly,” Sandor growled, “you’re still too damn young to be dating anyone, much less a grown man. Secondly, you’re a bloody lady, you ought to be treated as such and nobody should ever take you on a date into a pub. And lastly, Gendry is only a police man, not half as pretty or rich as you. He’s just a guy from the shooting range, who doesn’t even know how to shave properly.”

“You don’t know that either!” she was glad he gave her another point to complain about.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she threw her hands up in exasperation. She couldn’t very well blame Sandor for his difficulties with shaving around his scars. But Sandor was still wrong. And by the way, in what bizarre world was Gendry less pretty than Arya? She’d never be able to understand the Hound. “I’ll live my life as I want and you have no right to stop me.”

Sandor sneered. “And have you thought of Gendry at all?”

“What do you mean?” 

“What will all this do to him? He’s been looking at you like you were the Maiden incarnate for months, what will happen to him when you get his hopes up?”

“What?” Since when did Gendry pay any attention to Arya? The stupid Hound always got everything wrong, it had always been Arya who tried to get Gendry’s attention, not the other way round.

“Gendry’s a good man,” Sandor admitted. “But once again, he’s just a simple guy from the shooting range. He doesn’t have a fortune in a bank, he doesn’t have a famous father, well… family. He doesn’t have a famous family,” Sandor stumbled a little, clearly regretting he spoke of Gendry’s family at all. Arya appreciated it, it was nice that Sandor wasn’t trying to use some cheap gossip against Gendry.

“I know that Gendry doesn’t know who his father is and his mother died when he was young,” Arya clarified, relieving Sandor of the pressure. “And I don’t care about his background, he’s great on his own. If anything, the loss of our parents makes us connect more. We have it in common.”

“You have nothing in common, girl. Just imagine what will happen when Gendry wants to buy you something worthy of a lady? Like those bloody earrings your pretty sister was admiring last week, remember those?”

Arya furrowed her brows, remembering vaguely what he was talking about. “Yeah?”

“Do you have any idea how long he’d have to be saving to be able to buy those?”

“No, why?”

“Eight years! Eight fucking years!” Sandor snarled. “He wouldn’t be able to buy himself anything and he’d still have to wait eight fucking years until he’d be able to buy you those.”

“Who cares? I don’t even wear earrings. And how do you know anyway? There was no price tag.”

“Eight years!” Sandor repeated. “He’d never be able to give you anything you deserve, don’t you understand?”

“I don’t want earrings, my earring holes closed years ago,” Arya was getting more and more perplexed.

“That’s not the point. You’ll want a house one day, won’t you? A big, expensive mansion,” Sandor growled accusingly. “Gendry will never have money for that. You’ll buy it yourself and he’ll be completely useless.”

“What?” Arya blinked, wondering how the hell they got to the topic of mansions.

“Or your children. You’d want some special lordly shit for them, some designer clothes and uppish schools, but hey, Gendry’s a sodding policeman, he wouldn’t be able to afford it! You’d be buying everything for your children yourself and he’d be useless!” Sandor was really getting worked up.

“What the hell are you talking about, we’ve been on one date!”

“That’s where the problem begins!” Sandor raged. "You’re too fucking pretty for him, you’re too fucking highborn! You’ll shatter his heart and move on to some pretty lord!”

The giant in front of her seemed furious and Arya had no idea how she even pissed him off like that. Even Stranger was tense now.

“I don’t care about those things,” she retorted, “even Sansa doesn’t! She likes to admire pretty things, but wearing expensive jewels and having large mansions means being constantly surrounded by bodyguards. We’ve had enough of that. We both only want peace, don’t you understand?”

The man wanted to say something, but Arya would have none of that. She was just getting fired up, too. “Our parents had all those things, Sandor. Now our mother is dead, our father is dead, our brother is dead. Everybody is fucking dead!” she yelled at the arsehole in front of her. “We want to be around people we can trust and who make us happy. And if I want to be friends with you, who is ugly and stupid and pisses me of, I’ll be friends with you and I don’t give a fuck about your stupid prejudice. And if I want to date a guy who is kind and makes me feel like everything is normal again, I’ll be with him and you can go fuck yourself!”

Sandor stared at her for a long moment. “Alright,” he said then.

“What?”

“I might not gut Gendry after all.”

Arya starred at him in astonishment. “Really?”

“I said I might not,” Sandor grumbled. “As long as you know what you’re doing. And you’re not going to pubs until the trial is over.”

“Really?”

“Don’t push it, girl,” he warned her.

“I won’t go to pubs,” she promised and Stranger happily woofed in response.


	12. Chapter 12

Sansa was delighted to meet Stranger. After shaking his paw, she ran her hand through his thick fur, scratched him behind his ears and admired him as if he didn’t look like a monster from the Seven Hells at all. Sansa was weird. “You’re one cute puppy, aren’t you?”

“He’s a guard dog,” Sandor corrected her.

“You’re one cute guard dog,” Sansa ruffled the dog’s fur.

“Careful girl, he’s got temper, he can be really mean.”

“Aww, but not with me. Right, Stranger?” The giant dog plopped to the floor in front of Sansa, begging for a belly rub. Sandor scowled at him disapprovingly. “How come you two came together?” Sansa wondered.

“What do you think?” Arya snorted. “This arsehole interrupted me and Gendry, just because we dared to go to a pub.”

“A pub? So you spent the whole afternoon with Gendry?” Sansa’s expression brightened up. 

“I did. Until this one showed up,” Arya pointed at Sandor, who was furtively poking into Stranger, willing him to stand up. The mutt ignored him completely, too busy rolling on his back and staring adoringly at Sansa.

“What’s wrong with going to a pub?” Sansa didn’t understand.

“Security,” Sandor rasped.

“Why? Do you think somebody is going to shoot us in a pub?”

“I won’t be taking chances. Crowded places are too dangerous, you know it, girl.”

“Oh,” Sansa thought about it for a moment. “Does it mean we can’t go to a cinema, either?”

“You shouldn’t,” Sandor said firmly, but when he saw Sansa’s disappointed expression, he hesitated for a moment. “Not until the trial is over, little bird,” he added apologetically.

“But all the studying is driving me crazy, Sandor! And there’s this one film I’d love to see, it’s an adaptation of my favourite book, a period drama. Not many people will be there.”

“It’s dangerous, little bird. The trial is finally getting close to the end, the Lannisters are desperate. We have to count with all the possibilities.”

“And if you were there with me?”

Sandor scowled. “What do you mean?”

“We could go to the cinema together, couldn’t we?” Sansa looked up at him, full hope. “If you were there, nobody would try anything.”

“You wouldn’t want to go to the cinema with me, little bird,” Sandor grumbled.

“Why not? I love spending time with you.”

“Ah, you can’t get enough of my pretty face, is that it?” Sandor snarled, suddenly furious. “You yearn for more of my refined company and pleasant conversations, don’t you? Spare me your empty little compliments, girl!” 

“But I feel so safe with you,” Sansa didn’t so much as flinch. “I don’t get to feel like that often, Sandor.”

The stupid Hound forgot to breath for a moment, looking at Sansa with scared, uncertain eyes.

“Please, Sandor, it could be so much fun!” Sansa pressed on. 

Sandor cleared his throat. “I could perhaps arrange for a private screening in the castle,” he allowed.

“No, not the castle,” Sansa shook her head vehemently. “I know Lady Lantell is on our side, but she’ll want to show me off to her friends again! Please, Sandor, can’t we go into the Sunset Cinema, among people?”

“The Sunset Cinema?” Sandor repeated in disbelief. “You’re a bloody lady, little bird, that’s no place for you!”

Arsehole. Arya rolled her eyes. Sandor was such a prejudiced idiot, dividing everyone into stupid classes. Arya had a lot to say about her sister, too, but Sandor had no right to act as if Sansa was some spoilt princess. Sansa was happiest when she was surrounded with dogs and she had a steady supply of lemon cakes and sickeningly fluffy romantic stories. Sandor knew it well enough, so the whole lords and peasants shit was just him trying to be an even bigger tosser than usual. And even if Sansa was all smiles, Arya was offended for her. She could kick Sandor’s arse if she wanted, Gendry had taught her some new moves just a few hours before. Dating Gendry could be very practical, Sandor had no idea.

“Why not?” Sansa asked sweetly, instead of punching the man. “I looked it up, it looks amazing. We could go to the cinema and then to the beach and watch the sun set.”

“The beach!” Sandor roared. “Seven bloody hells, do you have a death wish, girl? 

“I just thought it could be nice.”

“Forget it, I won’t let you get yourself killed.”

Sansa’s face fell in disappointment and she nodded, glancing down at Stranger.

Sandor looked a bit lost. “The cinema… we could do that, little bird,” he added quietly, the rage suddenly all gone. “If you hide your hair again, we could make it work. But no open spaces, where I can’t keep you safe, alright?”

“Alright,” a huge smile formed on her beautiful face, and her blue eyes sparkled with joy. “Do you think we could go tomorrow already? It’s at six.”

Sandor sighed. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh, you’re amazing!” Sansa rejoiced. “And you’ll sit right next to me, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, you think I’ll leave your safety to those gnats, little bird?” Sandor sneered. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Sansa grinned.

Arya hated that Sansa always got her way. If Arya pouted like Sansa and batted her eyelashes, nobody would give a damn. Or they’d think she was having a seizure. But when Sansa did it, Sandor almost joined his dog on the floor. Stupid dog. Stupid Sandor. They were all stupid. Arya luckily received a message from Gendry, so she didn’t have to think about their stupidity any longer. She had her own date to worry about. And nobody would ruin it this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for a hospital tomorrow, so I don't know when I'll update next. Hopefully it won't take too long.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the kind support, it means a lot to me! Sansan fans are the best. I was quite scared, but the first of my surgeries went well, it's my birthday today and I'm back :)

Podrick smiled into the phone’s camera, but before he could take a picture, a huge hand pushed him away. “What the fuck are you doing?” Sandor growled at his subordinate.

“Superintendent Clegane,” the young man gasped. “We were just… we were...”

“We were just taking a selfie!” Arya spat. “What’s wrong with that, dog?”

Sandor turned to her, scowling. “A selfie? You want to have a buggering selfie with your security guard?”

“Sure, why not? We’re just making some memories.”

“Memories my arse. What an extraordinarily white wall this is, of course you can’t live without taking a picture in front of it!” Sandor sneered. “Get inside, girl,” he shot one more murderous glance at the young sergeant and dragged Arya back into the flat.

Poor Podrick remained outside, while Sandor slammed the door in front of his face, not allowing the man to defend himself at all. 

“So? What did I do wrong this time?” Arya crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted her chin. „Is a phone going to assassinate me now, too?“

Before Sandor could start yelling at her some idiotic bullshit again, Sansa walked into the room like a goddess awaiting praise of mere mortals. She was wearing her favourite blue dress that was very modest and plain in theory, but it hugged her curves and accentuated them in a way that was entirely too distracting. Her auburn hair was spilling down her back in a glorious cascade of loose curls. Sansa was even more breath-takingly beautiful than usual and she knew it too well. Of course Arya had to have the most gorgeous sister in the world, it was just about her luck. And Sansa didn’t even have the decency to at least occasionally get a big, red pimple right in a middle of her forehead like a normal person. She always had to be perfect.

And Sandor was annoying, too. As soon as he saw Sansa, he froze on the spot, his mouth open and his eyes wild. He was just like a ravenous, stupid dog.

“Hi, Sandor, you came early,” Sansa beamed at him. Didn’t her face ever hurt from smiling so much? There was no reason to be so bloody positive all the time, especially for a Stark. 

Sandor cleared his throat, but then he just nodded quietly, still starring at Sansa as if he just saw a ghost.

“What were you two talking about?” Sansa asked politely.

“What do you think?” Arya snorted. “Now he has a problem even with taking selfies.”

“We can’t take selfies?” Sansa blinked.

Sandor finally woke up from a trance. “Not with other people’s phones!” he barked at Arya. “Why would Payne even want a selfie with you?”

“We can’t take selfies with Podrick?” Sansa apparently still hadn’t learnt what an idiot Sandor was. “He’s sweet, I have a lots of selfies with him.”

“Sweet?” Sandor repeated, incredulous. “Why the hell do you take pictures with that little gnat?”

“We spend all days together,” Sansa shrugged. “All the officers are so nice to us and they are always there to protect us, I want to remember them all. That’s why I have pictures with everyone. Except of you,” she pouted.

“Seven bloody hell!” Sandor howled. “And why do you think all the men want your photos, girl?”

“To have some memories, too,” Sansa explained patiently. “I even have them printed. And I’m making a special album to remember the bright side of the whole trial. I have too many albums already, do you want to see them?”

“No, I don’t!” Sandor’s mouth twitched. “How can you be so bloody naive, girl? Do you know what men do with all those photos of you when they get home? Do you have any idea what things they imagine? How disgusting it is?”

“They’re officers,” Sansa reminded him.

“They’re still dirty men and you still look…” Sandor looked her up and down with open revulsion, before turning away. “Seven hells,” he cursed quietly and looked her in the eyes again. “It’s dangerous to share your photos like this. Nobody should ever think that way about you, don’t you understand?”

Arya wasn’t really all that happy that she had a sister who had to look like a stupid film star all the time, but she found it even worse when Clegane kept insinuating that there was something wrong with her.

“Sansa can take pictures with anyone she wants, who cares what other people do!”

“Exactly,” Sansa nodded. “I don’t care what other people think. We can’t be on social media, but I still want to have everyone in my photo album. Including you.”

“That’s not going to happen, girl. And you still need to be more careful. You never know what perv is out there!”

Sansa smiled and gently stroked his arm as usual. Why did she even touch people so much? Her hands were on Sandor constantly, it was ridiculous. “Most people don’t have to deal with rapists every day like you, Sandor,” Sansa cooed. “And you really gave us the best security, you don’t need to worry all the time. We’re safe.”

“You’re blind, that’s what you are,” he grumbled. “How can you still trust people so much after all you’ve been through?”

“Because you deserve it,” Sansa decided and started putting her shoes on, not seeing the change in the man’s expression. Sandor was wearing an expression of a guilty dog who just chewed up someone’s slippers and Arya narrowed her eyes at him. So what exactly was Clegane keeping away from them? What had Cersei cooked up this time? When Sansa looked at Sandor again, he schooled his face into his usual scowl, but it didn’t convince Arya at all.

Sandor helped Sansa into her coat and he stood close to her, holding her by the shoulders for a moment, staring at her with terrifying intensity. Sandor had been very odd lately and it was starting to truly worry Arya. Something was going on with him.

Sansa hid her hair beneath a hat and took Sandor’s arm, even though he didn’t offer it. They let Gendry in and Arya was genuinely happy to see the man, she was. She’d been looking forward to the precious moments of solitude they’d finally get. But Arya still couldn’t help but watch out of the window as her sister left the building and climbed into Sandor’s huge car.

“What’s the matter?” Gendry asked.

Arya sighed. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking about it at work, too.”

Arya snapped her head to him. “About what?”

“About Clegane?”

“What about him? What has he done?”

“Nothing, just how he’s crazy about your sister. It's funny. Or…” he hesitated. “What were you talking about?”

“He’s in love? The Hound?!” Arya gaped at him. “The Hound is in love? With Sansa?”

“Of course he is. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Seven hells,” Arya squeaked.


	14. Chapter 14

Arya was having a great time. Cooking with Gendry was much more fun than with Sansa, who knew everything the best. Granted, Sansa’s cooking was incomparably better than Arya’s, but she didn’t have to show off so much all the time, did she? Gendry was about as skilled as Arya and although it made for a significantly worse dinner, the experience was much more entertaining. Arya could freely laugh with Gendry without being reminded of ladylike manners, she could make the darkest jokes and he didn’t judge her at all. Gendry was definitely not her sister. But Arya couldn’t get Sansa out of her head anyway.

“Do you think she knows about it?” she asked Gendry in the middle of their dinner.

“I don’t know, I thought everybody knew,” Gendry shrugged. “Bronn even takes bets on how many times Clegane can mention your sister in any unrelated case.”

Arya shook her head. “Has Sandor always been this crazy?”

“In one way or another. I think he’s really scared for your safety now, especially since... you know...” he hesitated.

“The Red Wedding?”

“Yeah. You should see the extra training his guys had to go through and how he’d fought to get extra money for your security. And it’s good. Superintendant Clegane is crazy, but it’s a good kind of crazy. And when your sister arrived...”

“I don’t see how it’s good to fall for Sansa,” Arya interrupted him. “And stop being so official, he’s a stupid dog.”

“He isn’t stupid, Arya, he knows what he looks like,” Gendry tried to defend the idiot. “Clegane would never be so stupid to expect anything from your sister, so why do you care?”

“Because it’s wrong!”

Sansa had done it on purpose, Arya knew it. Sansa had always been the pretty, perfect little lady, she was used to getting all the compliments. She couldn’t stand it it when somebody didn’t like her, she did anything then to change their mind. That’s exactly what had happened. Sansa had seen Clegane, got worried that he wasn’t astounded by her splendidness and she somehow tricked him into falling for her. Baelish had taught her well, Arya thought grimly. She’d seen enough over the last few weeks. While Arya never knew even how to react to Gendry’s compliments, Sansa talked to any man with absolute ease, she was always all smiles and pleasantness, wearing stupid dresses like a princess, provoking everyone. Sansa was convinced every man should turn his head after her. She touched Sandor all the time, he wasn’t used to that. Of course he’d fallen for her, poor man.

But Gendry was apparently still talking about Sandor’s looks and reasonability. “We’ve always been wondering what exploded into his face,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, a bomb?” She didn’t really care when and how Sandor got his scars, she wanted him to forget about her sister. “But what will we do now, Gendry?”

“Now?” Gendry smiled. “Now we could clean the dishes.”

“You know what I meant.”

Gendry didn’t give her any satisfying answer, he found Sandor’s stupid infatuation more amusing than anything else. He didn’t even want to talk about the Hound at all. Instead he smoothly moved to the more date-appropriate topic of weaponry and all the amazing ways in which rifles had ever been constructed. It was sexy how excited he got when he got to talk about guns and laws and Arya was happy that she finally met someone who shared her interest. When they cleaned the dishes, Arya somehow found herself embraced by the muscular man and soon he was whispering to her sweet promises of self-defence training and shooting rare historic guns. And then, then he kissed her. At first he brushed his lips across her forehead, then he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her neck and when Arya giggled, he silenced her with a gentle kiss on her lips. As her mouth opened in a silent invitation, the kiss quickly deepened. Arya had been so nervous about kissing Gendry, but now it felt like the most natural thing, she was enjoying the warmth of his strong body, his firm embrace. Why hadn’t they done it sooner? The bliss however didn’t last long. When Arya finally relaxed in Gendry’s arms, they were both disturbed by an odd sound coming from behind the front door. What was it? A growl? A pained groan?

Gendry abruptly pulled away from Arya, glancing toward the door. “Wait here,” he hissed authoritatively.

Arya nodded and immediately followed him.

“What is it?” she asked when he peeked out of the peep hole. “Podrick?”

“No, no, it’s...” Gendry stuttered. “It’s fine. Let’s clean the kitchen, shall we?” His face was oddly flushed.

And there was another odd sound behind the doors.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just your sister with Superintendant Clegane. But we haven’t cleaned the kitchen yet, Arya.”

“Why don’t you let them in?” Arya moved to open the door, but Gendry stopped her.

“They have the keys, we shouldn’t disturb them now.”

“Why? What’s wrong, Gendry?” Arya was getting suspicious. “What are they doing?” she pushed Gendry away, looking out.

“Arya, it’s not polite to spy on other people!”

“What…” she gasped. “What the fuck?”

“Arya, we really should clean the kitchen.”

“What the fuck?”

Clegane had his stupid mouth on Sansa’s throat! It wasn’t clear whether he was kissing her, or trying to devour her, but Sansa didn’t seem to be pushing him away. She was… No, definitely not pushing him away. “What the fuck?” Arya repeated as Sansa dragged Sandor’s mouth to her own, kissing him passionately, running her fingers through his long hair. 

“It’s none of our business, Arya,” Gendry reminded her quietly.

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“She?” Gendry seemed confused. “I thought you were angry that he… oh,” he furrowed his brows. “What?”

“She’s unbelievable!”

“Arya, I think we shouldn’t be watching them. You can have a talk with your sister later.”

“I know, I know, you’re right,” Arya took a deep breath. She finally tore herself away from the door. She still couldn’t believe what she’d just seen.

Sansa had always done this. She’d done it when they were children, too. She took Arya’s friends, messed their heads up, turned them into her biggest fans and once she was done with them, they didn’t want to be Arya’s friends any more. This was the same damn thing. But as an adult Sansa obviously upgraded, now she had to have the admiration of every man, even if it meant kissing the ugliest dog she could find. She’d stomp on his heart and move onto the next guy. The poor, defenceless Hound. 

Gendry tried to lead Arya away, but she took one more glance out of the peep hole and froze. Sandor had pushed Sansa against the wall and lifted her up. Were they drunk? And what had they done to poor Podrick, where was he? Enough was enough, this really was the last straw. Just when Sansa shamelessly wrapped her legs around Sandor’s hips, Arya threw the door wide open and the two guilty idiots quickly jumped off each other.

“Good evening!” Arya yelled at them.


	15. Chapter 15

“Well, how was the cinema?” Arya asked icily. 

“Ah, hi,” Sansa smiled, straightening her dress discreetly. She was all flushed and her hair completely tousled. “Great. It was great.”

Sandor just nodded. He probably couldn’t even speak, he was breathing too heavily, his mouth twitching. When Sansa took a step towards the door, he put his enormous hand on her shoulder and stopped her. Sansa turned her head in surprise, giving Sandor a questioning look, but his only response was an annoyed glare. Sansa blushed and turned to Arya again, standing still in front of Sandor. What was that supposed to be about?

“It was really great,” Sansa added and looked at Arya pleadingly. “Will you give us a moment, please?”

“Sure,” Arya agreed, but didn’t bother to move at all. “What about the film, was it historically accurate?”

“It was great.”

The two waited for a moment whether Arya would leave them alone, but she had no such intentions. And before she could ask another pointed question, Podrick came rushing from downstairs. Sansa immediately moved, as if to shield Sandor’s body from both Arya and Podrick now. Did she want to be the Hound’s bodyguard now, or what?

“I haven’t found anything,” Podrick was panting, a worried look on his face. “Are you sure you didn’t leave them in the cinema?”

“Oh,” Sansa fluttered her eyelashes rather too innocently. Arya wasn’t buying it. “I’m so sorry, Podrick, we found my keys in Sandor’s pocket!”

“Thanks goodness,” Podrick sighed a have breath of relief. “Everything is fine then?”

“Everything is just perfect, thank you, Podrick.”

Sandor took a deep breath and finally found his voice again. “Well, I should probably go,” he said hoarsely. Was he trembling? Had Sansa made the giant man tremble? “I have to pack before I leave tomorrow.”

That got Arya’s attention. “Where are you going?” 

“It’s just a business trip, completely unrelated case,” Sandor grumbled.

“We won’t be seeing him for over a week,” Sansa pouted. “But he'll come back for the end of the trial!”

“Even when Cersei gets her sentence, you’ll still be protected, little bird,” the Hound scowled a little.

“But not by your department, remember?” Sansa turned to him again, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You won’t be in a position of power over us any more, or anything like that.”

“Right,” Sandor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in an oddly nervous gesture. “I should… I should go.”

“Good idea,” Arya agreed.

Sandor glanced down at Sansa again and his face twisted into something terrifying that was probably supposed to be a gentle smile. “Good night, little bird,” he murmured.

“Good night, Sandor,” she whispered back. “Try to be careful for once, alright?”

“And try a cold shower, too,” Arya advised him, but he wasn’t listening.

Sandor starred into Sansa’s eyes for an embarrassingly long moment. “I’ll see you next week,” he finally spoke again, shivering when Sansa briefly touched his hand. “Come, Gendry,” he commanded and strode away, not waiting for an answer, not looking back at all.

“Oh,” Gendry blinked. “Yes, sir. Of course. Right. Good night, ladies!” he quickly started putting his shoes on and hurried after the detective.

And then they were gone. Sansa wished Podrick a good night, supplied him with pies and tea and started cleaning the kitchen, a song on her lips and the stupid, dreamy smile still plastered on her face. Arya knew Sansa wanted everything to be pretty and clean and good, the world full of rainbows and butterflies. Sansa had been like that probably since the moment she was born. But she really didn’t have to act like she was in some sickening old musical all the time, did she? In serious moments like these, it was incredibly infuriating. “So how was your date, Arya?” Sansa asked as if nothing had happened. 

And even Arya’s admirable patience finally snapped. “What do you think you’re doing?” she started questioning her sister.

“Singing? Dancing? Cleaning the kitchen?” 

“We’ve cleaned it already with Gendry,” Arya grunted. “And what are you doing with Sandor?”

“We went to the cinema. And because we shouldn't go to restaurants, we ended up at Sandor's place. And we talked and talked. It was amazing,” Sansa beamed.

Arya frowned even more. “What were you talking about?” 

“Everything. Sandor is so knowledgable about history, you have no idea! If we didn’t have to keep the security schedule, we would have spent the whole night talking.”

“Just talking?”

“Well, talking and eating,” Sansa giggled, washing the already-washed dishes. “That man could eat a horse and still be hungry.”

“And what happened with the keys?” Arya continued the interrogation like a real professional.

“Oh, we couldn’t find them, but then we did and…” Sansa’s cheeks suddenly reddened, “well, we did.”

“And then?”

“Then you opened the door,” Sansa said, her voice a little too high.

“And before that?”

“What do you mean?”

Arya couldn’t take this any longer. “I saw you, that’s what I mean!” she told her accusingly. “I saw you kiss Sandor!”

“Oh,” Sansa somehow managed to blush even more. “Well...”

“How could you do that to me?”

That sobered Sansa up. “You? What did I do to you?”

“You’re trying to take Sandor away from me!”

“You are in love with Sandor?” Sansa blurted out in sheer astonishment.

“No, yuck!” Arya made a disgusted face. “Seven hells, he’s my friend!”

“You said he wasn’t your friend,” Sansa reminded her, giving her a suspicious look.

“Yeah, well… whatever,” Arya really didn’t feel like labelling her relationship to Sandor right now. “But I’ve known him for years, he’s been the only constant in my life for years. Everybody dies, disappears, but Sandor has always been there for me to save my arse.”

“I’m glad you finally acknowledge it,” Sansa nodded, looking too much like her mother.

“That’s not the point! You always steal my friends!”

“I do what?” Sansa looked genuinely perplexed. She was far too calm and that was pissing Arya off, too. “When have I ever done that?”

“Always?” Arya snorted. “Everybody always likes you better. First Jeyne, then Myrcella, now even Sandor...”

“And Joffrey and Petyr and about every creep in the Red Keep,” Sansa added. “Some of those people indeed liked me better than they liked you. Are you going somewhere with that list of yours?”

“You could have had anyone but Sandor!”

“Gendry, for example?” Sansa kept mentioning the most random names, obviously annoying Arya on purpose. “Do you have to have every muscled man in this city?”

“I don’t want Sandor, damn it, but when you dump him, he won’t speak to me again. And I’ve lost everyone, I can’t keep losing more people, don’t you understand?”

Sansa raised her perfect brows. “First of all, you know it would take a lot more for Sandor to stop speaking to you,” she said calmly. “And secondly,” she put hands on her hips, “what in the seven hells do you think of me?” The curse sounded incredibly dirty coming from Sansa. Where were the rainbows now?

“What do I think of you? You… you flirt with everyone!”

“I’m nice to everyone,” Sansa corrected. “It might come as a surprise to you, Arya, but there’s a difference. And I certainly don’t kiss everyone. I’d never have kissed Sandor, if I felt nothing for him!”

“What...” Arya tried to process that information, but failed completely. “Why would you feel anything for Sandor? He’s just a police man. And the ugliest guy you’ve met.”

“Nobody can be uglier than Joffrey,” Sansa disagreed and shockingly enough, she seemed to be completely sincere. “Sandor is different, he’s so so strong and caring… And I feel safe with him, Arya, like he can keep me safe from anything. I haven’t felt so safe in ages.”

Arya bit her lip, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself. They weren’t children any more. Arya had thought of Sansa as an insufferable twelve year old girl for so long, it was sometimes difficult to acknowledge Sansa had grown up and changed. After all, Arya wasn’t running around ruining Sansa’s pretty dresses, either. Sansa was Arya’s connection to the childhood, but their petty rivalry had remained there, in the past. Looking back, Arya hadn’t really had so much in common with Jeyne, or Myrcella, she'd had more friends among the children of the Stark employees. It was possible Sansa hadn’t actually tried to steal the friends of her horse-faced sister. It was even possible Sansa truly cared for Sandor. “Well,” Arya hesitated a little, not sure how to make amends. “I guess… if you really love Sandor, then… I might allow it,” she courageously forced herself into the apology.

Sansa giggled, not appreciating the effort at all. “Thank you. I wouldn’t call it love yet. Just like you’re scared of losing everyone, I’m a little scared that anyone can betray me anytime. It’s stupid, I know,” Sansa got back to her dreamy expression. “But Sandor is so honest, he even went on a rant today about my shoes, how awful they were, how they'd hurt my feet. He hated them so much,” she confessed happily. “I think he’s really trustworthy. So… we’ll see.”

Arya nodded, glad the apologizing part was over. Now that she’d calmed down a bit, she could see some positives in having a sister again. And it wouldn’t be too unbearable to have Sandor in her family. He was still a stupid dog, but he wasn’t the worst thing. And yet when Arya thought about Sansa’s words a bit more, she scowled again. “What do you mean, you’ll see?” she called after her. “You’ve kissed the man! You have to love him now!”


	16. Chapter 16

Arya hadn’t seen Sandor in ten days and without his barking presence she was even more nervous before the trial then normally. She was glad when she finally saw him. As usual, she and Sansa were hidden away in a room in the court with several police men and some annoying lawyers watching the trial with them via a videolink. Cersei would be appearing soon and the atmosphere in the room was getting thicker and thicker. Nobody had ever convicted the Lannisters of anything, the court would perhaps make a history today. But when Arya saw Sandor, she started to doubt their chances all over again. There was something different about Clegane. For one, he wasn’t scowling at all, which was extremely disturbing. For another, he was too well-dressed. He was always surprisingly clean for such a mess of a man, but today his hair looked the best it ever had and he was wearing a new suit. With a new shirt. And a new tie. By this point, Arya was well acquainted with the man’s entire wardrobe, so she knew all of this was new. But why was it new? Why didn’t he just put his dog sweater on? And also, he seemed oddly anxious. Sandor wasn’t supposed to look anxious, he was the Hound, why wasn’t he barking at everyone? Had Cersei found a way to buy the judge?

When Sandor’s eyes finally found the girls and Sansa waved at him, his whole body relaxed and a small smile formed on his ugly face. He quickly moved to the girls.

“Good morning, Sandor, I almost thought you’d never come,” Sansa called out before he was even near them.

But within moments he was by their side. He greeted the girls and bent down to speak to them, bracing his hand on the back of Sansa’s chair. Sansa smiled and placed her palm over his huge hand in a gesture of quiet content. And Sandor froze. He was just staring into her eyes, saying nothing, nothing of what he’d wanted to say. Arya was getting impatient. They could stare at each other in their free time, they could even do again all that ugly kissing for all she cared. If Sansa didn’t mind kissing the worst scars in the history of scars, who was Arya to judge her? But not now. Now they were there to hear Cersei’s sentence. Or see her destroy the court. And Sandor wasn’t paying attention to anything, instead he was trying to count Sansa’s eyelashes, or why in the seven hells he was so focused on her eyes. Sandor swallowed nervously and Arya shivered. She understood now. She understood why it was difficult for him to speak. The judge was really corrupt, wasn’t he? Of course he was. He was a corrupt bastard and Sandor had come to tell them they had to change identities and escape to Essos, because Cersei would be walking away a free woman today. Seven bloody hells.

Sandor finally moved again, bending down further to whisper to them both. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Bloody hells, she escaped!” Arya couldn’t stay quiet any more. She’d always known it would end up like this. “Cersei escaped!” she yelped.

“What?” a man in front of her swiftly turned around, horror written all over his face. “Lady Lannister has escaped?”

“Clegane!” another man roared. “How has that happened?”

“Cersei escaped,” everyone started to murmur. “She escaped.”

“Clegane let her escape!”

“Nobody escaped!” Sandor yelled. “That bitch is coming in a minute.”

“Oh.”

“My sister was just joking,” Sansa smiled at everyone as if she was hosting a party. “Everything is fine,” she announced. “It was a joke. Nobody escaped.”

The lawyers finally calmed down a little. Some men were still eyeing Arya, but she just stared at them defiantly and they didn’t dare to say a word. Arya smirked. They knew she’d kick their arse.

“What surprise do you have for us?” Sansa turned to Sandor as if nothing had happened.

Sandor breathed a heavy sigh. “Come with me, you two,” he growled and Sansa immediately jumped up, following him like a puppy.

“What is it?” Arya asked with the most uninterested voice she could produce as she walked out of the room.

But Sansa was already squealing in delight. “Bran! Rickon!” she run to the boys. 

The surprise took Arya's breath away. “Jon!” she jumped into the man’s arms.

“You’re here!” Sansa tried to hug everyone at once.

“Superintendent Clegane said we should come,” Jon explained, laughing, when Arya didn’t want to let go of him, crushing him with her brand new muscles. She was fit, Jon had no idea.

“I thought you couldn’t come, it wasn’t possible, with all that’s going on.”

“Clegane somehow arranged it,” Jon shrugged.

“Oh, Jon, I’m so happy to see you all again!” Sansa cried tear of happiness.

Arya didn’t quite know what to say. She was a bit wary. Every time she spoke with the boys, she was at peace and happy. But it was then incredibly difficult to end the phone call, to let the boys live their lives without being terrified for their safety. And now they were here. They would leave her soon, she was sure of it. Everybody was always leaving.

“How long are you staying?”

“Just three days. We have to get back then.”

“Oh,” Arya nodded, hiding her disappointment behind a perfected mask of indifference.

“Don’t be silly,” Jon tousled her hair playfully. “The Lannisters will be put behind the bars for life today and then we’ll see each other all the time. All the holidays, birthdays… everything. I’m telling you, you’ll be sick of seeing us.”

Arya snorted. “So why didn’t Sandor tell us you were coming?”

“Well, it wasn’t certain and he didn’t want to disappoint you,” Jon explained. “Gods, I’m so happy to see you two, you have no idea how much we’ve missed you!”

Arya glanced at Sansa. She was happily chatting with her younger brothers, straightening their ties, while Sandor kept a polite distance to them. He was watching Sansa like a divine revelation. 

Jon had always been as perceptive as Arya, so he of course immediately noticed she was observing the Hound. “He spoke a lot about how great you’re at school,” he noted thoughtfully.

“Really?” Arya gasped. “He said I’m great?”

“Well, he hasn’t used those words exactly, but he clearly respects you a lot. He only has a problem with Sansa.”

Arya raised her brows. “You think so?” she asked him sceptically.

“Yeah, during the whole flight he kept talking about her being too nice to people and getting herself killed. And how she doesn't rest enough and something about unhealthy shoes? I don’t know,” Jon shrugged. “It’s like he hates everything she does.”

Arya looked at her cousin in surprise. “You think Sandor hates Sansa?”

Jon hesitantly nodded. “I know it's not fair, but he probably does.”

“Sure,” Arya finally smiled at her cousin. “Well, welcome, Jon, I’m glad we share the same genes after all.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this story wouldn't be too serious, but it might be time for some serious explanations.

Cersei finally appeared. An hour too late, but she was there, walking in with a confident smirk. She had used more make up today than Arya had in her entire life, she was wearing clothes that was more expensive than Arya and Sansa’s flat. She already looked like a winner. She did whatever she wanted, she apparently wasn't even going to take off the fur coat for this inconsequential occasion. And that was good. Perhaps she’d cook herself to death in that thing.

It was worrisome how confident Cersei was today. It slowly dawned on Arya that this trial, too, would end up in a fiasco like all the previous attempts. Why had she been so stupid to give in to hope? There was no way Cersei would ever go to prison, she’d always known that. This was undeniably a historical moment, but the whole country now depended on one stupid judge and a corrupted jury. The judge himself didn’t look like an old, respected lawyer at all, more like one of Cersei’s hit-men. His head was large and square, he had a bulbous nose with broken veins and gnarled hands as large as hams. This wasn’t a man who served justice, he worked for the Lannisters. Everybody worked for the Lannisters.

After the fall of Targaryen monarchy several aristocratic families had risen to power and stolen for themselves as much of state-owned assets as they could. The Baratheons, the Tyrells… but nobody more so than the Lannisters. They had become the richest people in Westeros. Arya’s father had been a lord, too, but he never took part in the privatizations. Ned Stark had been too focused on his work as a judge. His family had opposed the Targaryens during their terror, Arya’s grandfather and uncle even paid for it with their lives. The Starks gained a lot of recognition for their bravery. But Arya’s father hadn’t opposed only Targaryens, he’d opposed the Lannisters just as much. He never bowed down to pressure and blackmail and for that he became the most respected judge in Westeros. In a desperate attempt for reformation, Arya’s father had even stepped into politics and tried to cut the richest families off the political power. But before he succeeded, he was killed by the Lannisters. And then his wife was killed. And his son. All his friends. Everyone. 

Sansa had been kidnapped by the Lannisters, who used her as a pawn to blackmail her family. Arya had managed to run away and she lived on the streets until Sandor tracked her down. Back then Arya had thought that Sandor was loyal to the Lannisters, too, but it turned out he’d been working undercover, trying to gather as much evidence against them as possible. And he wasn’t the only one. There were actually quite a few people loyal to the Stark values and they were not willing to give up on their country. It took years, but here it was, a trial that would change the history. For better or worse. Probably for worse. Nothing ever worked out as it should.

Cersei was not only charged with murder of Arya’s father, among her other countless crimes was also the attempted murder of Arya’s brother Bran. Bran got paralyzed waist down as a result of the vicious attack of the Lannister’s siblings, but he was very calm today. Arya didn’t know how he did it, she herself was itching to scream at the screen. Cersei wouldn’t hear her, she was in the main building of the court, while the Starks were hiding in another building, in the sodding videolink room, as if they were the ones who had something to be ashamed of. But the screaming would help Arya anyway. She badly needed to use all the fitting names she’d given Cersei over the years. She needed to give voice to her frustration. Bran wasn’t screaming, he had a content smile on his face. Great, yet another smiley sibling, just what Arya needed. Bran never doubted Cersei would be convicted and it was extremely frustrating. Arya didn’t understand how she of all people ever got to have such an irritatingly optimistic family. At least Rickon was normal, the boy always expected everybody would get brutally murdered at any time.

Bran was brilliant with computers, he always dug out something he shouldn't. He’d known too much for Cersei’s liking, she’d tried to have him killed because of it many times. Jaime Lannister had actually been the one who’d pushed Bran out of the window and crippled him, but Arya had forgiven him for that. The man ended up dying protecting Bran from Cersei’s hit-man after all. Jaime died in the arms of Sansa’s tall friend Brienne and it was Brienne’s impassioned account of the event that made Arya change her opinions quite a bit. Arya assumed now that Jaime had been manipulated by Cersei all along, he was probably her victim, too. Only the Seven knew what she’d done to keep him on such a tight a leash.

The horrible judge once again started to read the charges against Cersei. It would take him a while, there was no doubt about that. Westeros hadn’t seen such a huge trial in a long time and while it was horrible to remember all the things that had happened, it was a reminder that something was changing, too. Never before had Cersei been so publicly humiliated, never before had she walk in cuffs in front of the whole nation. But now, now everybody knew beyond doubt what she had done, she wasn’t so untouchable any more. Many people had already been convicted, twenty eight people had even been sentenced to life for various crimes, including murder of Arya’s mother and oldest brother Robb. All the Freys and Boltons and other conspirators were rotting in prison. Or in seven hells, often courtesy of Sandor himself. Arya had always been scared when she heard of firefight between police and the suspects, but in the end she was more than happy to see Roose Bolton’s dead body during the identification. Many people had been sentenced, many were dead. And yet nobody had ever proven anything to Cersei. Well, the prosecution and Sandor’s team in particular had proven everything they needed, bringing in ridiculous amounts of evidence. But Cersei had bought off so many judges before, nobody could believe any more a court could actually give her the sentence she deserved.

Cersei appeared on the screen again, smiling smugly into the camera. Arya could almost smell her overpowering perfume even through the screen. Rickon grumbled something about cutting Cersei’s heart out and feeding it to the rest of the Lannisters. He was such a good boy, Arya was very proud of him.

Sansa was meanwhile whispering with Sandor and it was making Arya even more anxious. Was there some secret conspiracy she didn’t know about? Arya strained her ears to hear the conversation.

“Are you sure?” Sansa was murmuring.

“She’s tried it,” Sandor admitted reluctantly. “But the guy doesn’t have anything to lose and he doesn’t give a damn about money. Cersei couldn’t break him, even if she’s deluding herself.”

“But they always say every judge is impartial and look at all the mess,” Sansa complained, suddenly trembling. Arya saw out of the corner of her eye Sandor’s hand gently caressing Sansa’s arm in an oddly affectionate gesture. Arya couldn’t help but envy Sansa a little. Only a selected few could enter this area of the court and Gendry wasn’t one of them.

“Don’t worry, little bird,” Sandor shifted even closer to Sansa, his mouth almost touching her ear. “The man is like a true brother to me, we can trust him. Everything will be fine.”

That was easy for Sandor to say, he wouldn’t have to change his identity, if Cersei wasn’t found guilty. Or perhaps he would. If everything was to go down, Sandor would move with them to Essos, wouldn’t he? And Gendry could find a job there, too. Everybody should just move to Essos and be done with this nonsense. 

Did Gendry have many things to pack? They would need to move away fast, but Gendry was probably capable of that. Before Arya decided what to do with all the Gendry’s belongings, Jon wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m thinking of him, too,” he said with a sad, knowing smile.

“Who?”

“Father. He would have been amazing at this trial.”

“Ah. Yes, yes, he would,” Arya nodded, not really wanting to think of her family right now. She had to have a plan. In a few hours she could be on a plane to Essos and she wanted Gendry to be there with her. They would move in together and live like normal people. “Are there good shooting ranges in Essos?” she asked Jon thoughtfully. 

“Oh, I…” Jon stuttered. “Shooting ranges?”

“I’ll need to find a really good shooting range. And a self-defence school.”

“I can give you my revolver, if you want,” Jon offered.

“I don’t want a revolver, I want a shooting range.”

The judge cleared his throat. “Lady Cersei Lannister,” he raised his voice. “The jury have found you guilty…”

What? Arya blinked. Who was guilty? Cersei was guilty? How was it possible? Arya had already planned her awesome life in Essos. 

The judge kept talking about the crimes he’d mentioned three times already, about the devastating effect Cersei’s scheming had on the whole country. He talked about the murders, organized crime, everything. Why did he talk so much? Was he playing for time? Ah, he didn’t want to sentence Cersei at all, something horrible would happen, wouldn’t it? Somebody would storm into the building, somebody would kill them all.

“The sentence is one of life imprisonment.”

What? Sansa yelped, but everybody else seemed to fall into a stunned silence. Cersei’s mouth fell open. Cersei was shocked. Seven bloody hells, Cersei was really shocked! What? What had just happened? Arya was starting to think she might not move in with Gendry after all.


	18. Chapter 18

Sandor had to face a hoard of journalists during a press conference, so Sansa was glued to the little screen for the whole afternoon, cheering for him. Sandor wasn’t even rude today, although Arya noticed he kept standing sideways to the camera, showing only the good side of his face. Who was he trying to fool? Everybody in Westeros knew what he looked like anyway, it was absurd.

“I can’t believe he bought a new suit for this,” she grumbled.

“Right?” Sansa agreed proudly. “He’s had a suit made by our father's tailor, he looks so fetching in it!”

Arya snapped her head to her. “What?” she gasped. “That’s your doing? You told Sandor to waste money on that thing?”

“No, I just said that he should have a nice suit for the trial. And that he would look stunning, if it was properly made and fitted by someone like our tailor. And he went and immediately ordered one! Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t!” Arya shook her head. “Sandor doesn’t need shit like that!”

“Of course, he does,” Sansa brushed her off. “He’s so big, have you any idea how difficult it is for him to find any clothes in his size?”

“Who gives a damn? His normal clothes are good enough.”

Sansa wasn’t convinced. “Perhaps, but he has an amazing body, he should have something fitted just for him. Or do you want to read more vile articles about his looks?

Arya snorted. “Sandor doesn’t care about what other people think. It's stupid.” 

“Don’t be silly, Arya, there’s nothing wrong with looking nice and polished.”

“Ah, so you’re already trying to turn him into your little doll that you can dress up and change however you like, is that it?”

“Sure, why not?” Sansa quipped sarcastically. “After all, Sandor is the most doll-like person I’ve ever seen.”

Arya ignored the comment. She knew she’d won the argument, Sansa didn’t understand Sandor at all. Sandor liked working and shooting and eating and drinking. He’d never needed fancy clothes, it wasn’t him. Besides, he really looked weird in his new suit. And Sansa looked weird, too, looking at the giant monster in genuine admiration. Bran was oddly content with hiding in a stupid little room in a stupid big court, while Jon kept explaining pressing northern problems to westermen who just wanted to celebrate. Everything was weird. Everything was wrong.

The trial was over and Arya wasn’t happy. She was fidgeting, getting irritated at every little thing. There was suddenly food everywhere and drinks. Everyone was celebrating, everyone was over the moon, even Sandor seemed oddly relaxed in front of the cameras. It was wrong, this wasn’t how the world worked.

“It was too easy,” Rickon summarized her fears perfectly. “It’s a trap.”

“It can’t be a trap,” Arya feebly tried to argue.

“Of course, it’s a trap. Cersei just wants to lull us into a false sense of security,” Rickon explained. “And then one day, there will be a wedding. Sansa will be the prettiest bride with the handsomest bridegroom, you’ll be most amazing bride’s maid, everyone will be happy, everything will be perfect, we’ll be surrounded by everyone we love and then… boom!” he roared.

Everybody jumped up a little in surprise. But when Arya and Rickon gave each policeman a synchronized scowl, all the men respectfully turned away again. Such was the power of the Stark scowl.

“What boom?” Arya hissed.

“Boom, we’re dead.”

“Rickon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“You can say it again when you’re dead,” he grunted.

Oddly enough, the conversation with Rickon calmed Arya down. If it was a trap, at least the two of them were ready, not everybody was living on a cloud like Sansa. Rickon and Arya would keep their family safe, they wouldn’t let their guard down.

Jon however still had a worried look on his face. “I don’t know what to do about Sansa,” he confessed as soon as he sat down next to Arya.

Arya shrugged. “Just get used to it, she’s like that all the time. Yesterday she tried to prettify my collection of pocket knives.”

“Better than giving a makeover to that Clegane guy,” Jon sighed. “I overheard what you spoke about, it’s crazy. She really seems to like the Hound.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I told you, he hates her. And she’ll get hurt! She always thinks everybody is her friend and then she gets burnt.”

“I don’t think she’ll be the one burnt here, Jon.”

“Really? Look at her!” The press conference had finally ended and Sandor returned to the room. He immediately headed towards Sansa and she happily jumped up, waving at him. But Sandor was stopped by his fellow police men, who were congratulating him and congratulating themselves. Arya wasn’t sure whether they were still technically at work, or not, but they were definitely more than a little tipsy. Sandor gave them some of his irritated attention, while Sansa sat herself down again. “Poor thing,” Jon frowned. “She has no idea what Clegane thinks of her. He can’t keep his mouth shut about how she’ll get herself killed.”

Rickon glanced at Sandor, too. “He said we’d all get killed, Jon, not only her,” he corrected his cousin thoughtfully. “And northerners will all starve to death in winter if we don’t stop relying on supplies of southern corporations,” he remembered. “Yeah, I really like that guy.”

Arya was sometimes wondering whether she was the only reasonable person in the family. But of course she was. “Jon, you’ve talked about your flight with Sandor three times, just let it go.”

“Two hours, Arya! He was talking to us for two hours about Sansa, how we should convince her to stop being so nice to everyone.”

“And that’s how you infered he hates her?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious,” Jon said with another tragic sigh. “We have to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know, I'll probably just have a little chat with the Hound. Get him to be more friendly with Sansa, you know?”

Did anybody have a crazier family than Arya? “Jon, you didn’t come here to miraculously fix our lives in one afternoon, why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because Sansa shouldn’t be treated that way. Don’t worry, I’ll be diplomatic,” he stood up. “It’s all about communication, Arya.”

“The last time you tried your diplomacy, you got stabbed, Jon.”

Jon didn’t listen to her. In astonishment, Arya watched her cousin walk up to the feared Hound and tap him on his massive shoulder. Sandor turned around, looking down at Jon. As soon as Jon opened his mouth, Sandor scowled and growled something at him. But Jon continued in his quest anyway, too determined to save the day and make Sandor like Sansa. Oh, shit. Arya bit her lip, unsure which man she should help.


	19. Chapter 19

Arya was delighted when she noticed Brynden walking past Sandor and Jon. It was a perfect, completely innocuous opportunity. There was nothing more natural than starting a conversation with her own uncle. And Arya did it brilliantly, she stopped Brynden just at the right place, so that she could hear every word Jon said. And Brynded was happy to talk to her, too. While he was usually very critical of Westerosi justice system, this time he praised the court and praised judge Elder for sentencing Cersei. He welcomed the opportunity to share his memories with his niece. And Arya was good at multitasking, she managed to keep the conversation going, while taking in every word of Jon’s diplomatic effort. She could make a great secret agent.

“What do you want, Snow?” Sandor was asking, not very pleasantly.

“I just want to thank you for your work.”

Sandor raised his brow. “Your cousin has already thanked me, no need to repeat it.”

“Oh, my cousin. You mean… Sansa?” Jon asked innocently.

“Of course, I mean Lady Sansa,” Sandor grated. “You were there, you’ve heard her.”

“Ah, sure. She’s very kind, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Sandor’s face darkened even more.

“Surely that’s a good thing,” Jon pointed out.

“Is it? She wants to work in criminal law. A gentle little bird like her chirping at all those scumbags, how is that a good thing?”

“Well, she wants to follow in her father’s footsteps,” Jon explained.

“And where exactly have those footsteps lead to?” Sandor sneered.

“Come on! You have to admit Sansa is very smart.”

Sandor turned slightly to look at Sansa and a smile tugged at his lips. But then he shook his head, scowling again. “If she were less smart and less honourable, she’d have a better shot at living a long life.”

“Ah, don’t be so negative, superintendent. The Lannisters are all dead or going to prison, it’s over!”

Sandor snorted. “If you believe that, you’re an even bigger fool than your uncle.”

“Why? You yourself have told Sansa it’s time to celebrate.”

“Cersei has been sentenced, that’s a big step forward. And your sisters should celebrate it, they bloody well deserve it,” the Hound nodded. “But they need more protection than the state can give them. I’ve told you already, your family has to hire extra security or let me take care of it.”

“We’ve had enough of extra security, superintendent. At this point it’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? As long as Cersei lives, she’ll always find a way to kick back. And the little bird wants to focus on criminal law, draw to herself even more attention of criminals. And her bloody sister, too, she wants to be a detective. Seven hells,” his mouth twitched. “They need extra security, how can you not see it?”

“But their decisions are admirable, are they not?”

“Sure, next time I’ll be called to two admirable corpses,” Sandor snarled. 

Arya absentmindedly responded to Brynden’s comments, but in her mind she was fuming. She hated this about Sandor. He’d taught her a lot and helped her get to the university, and yet he simply couldn’t shut up about the risks she’d be facing. Why couldn’t he just be happy for her and accept that she could one day work in his department? He himself didn’t mind having a dangerous job, so he had no right to judge others. Given the rate in which his colleagues were dying off, he should have been thrilled that someone wanted the job at all. And now he was doing the same to Sansa, criticizing her choices, stupid dog.

Jon gave up and tried a different strategy. “Sansa thinks very highly of you, superintendent.”

“And you have a problem with that?” Sandor narrowed his eyes at him.

“No, of course not. You’ve done a lot for our family. Sansa’s opinion is important to me, she is very perceptive.”

Sandor quietly observed Jon, but he didn’t respond.

“What I meant to say was that Sansa… Sansa is great. People should be kind to her, don’t you think?”

“You think I’ll hurt her, is that it?” Sandor asked grimly.

“No, I’d never think that! It’s just that she has suffered enough. And she’s so sweet, so beautiful…” 

Sandor’s expression wasn’t getting any friendlier. Perhaps Arya should stop Jon? He’d just got engaged to Ygritte, it hadn’t even been announced publicly yet. The girl probably wanted Jon with all his limbs and head attached.

“…and she’s a redhead,” Jon finished.

“What?” 

“Sansa is a redhead.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sandor was now genuinely perplexed by Arya’s cousin.

“Nothing, it’s just a nice colour. I personally love red hair, it’s like fire.”

Arya almost rolled her eyes. She maintained a cheerful conversation with Brynden, but she would soon have to smash something over Jon’s head. He was daydreaming about Ygritte again, wasn’t he? He always wore this stupid grin when he spoke of her. Ygritte had red hair, too, only a few shades lighter than Sansa, but it didn’t justify thinking about her when Jon stood face to face with the most monstrous-looking man in Westeros. Engagement has done weird things to Jon’s brain.

Sandor had noticed it, too. “What in the seven hells are you talking about? And why?”

“I’m just saying Sansa is a very nice girl.”

“And also your cousin,” Sandor grated.

“Yes, she is. I’m very lucky to have such an amazing family. It’s just a pity I don’t get to see the girls more often right. Hopefully, it will all change now.”

“The girls are studying in Lannisport and you work in the north, the end of the trial doesn’t change anything about that.”

“But we can visit each other freely. And we will. You know, Arya has been here for long, she has plenty of friends, but Sansa is new in Lannisport. She doesn’t know anyone in westerlands. She needs support, too, superintendent.”

“And I suppose you’re the one who understands the best what she needs.”

“Well, we’re closer than ever these days,” Jon admitted proudly. He was right. Sansa and Jon hadn’t got along very well as children, but these days Jon called Sansa as often as he contacted Arya. It had been Sansa who helped him choose the engagement ring and plan the proposal. Arya didn’t really care about these things and it was an opportunity for Jon and Sansa to warm up to each other. And it worked. 

But Sandor wasn’t very appreciative of their great relationship. “Your father was a Targaryen, wasn’t he?” he growled.

“Aye, why are you asking?”

Sandor didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw. His mouth twitched and the man took a step to side, so that he was now blocking Jon’s view of Sansa.

Jon was meanwhile still trying to get his point across. “Sansa is very pretty, so people jump to conclusions about her intelligence. But in reality, she is probably smarter than both of us put together. People should give her more credit.”

“Yeah,” Sandor muttered darkly. “I think it’s time I took the girls home.”

“Great,” Jon agreed. “We’ll be just behind you.”

Sandor curled his lips. “Take your time.” He threw Jon one more suspicious look and hurried to Sansa’s side. 

Jon gave Arya a victorious smile, letting her know he'd solved the problem. He was satisfied.


	20. Chapter 20

Gendry gave Arya and Sansa flowers. Arya didn’t understand why, she’d assumed he was the type of man who’d gift her with guns, not flowers. He however thought it was appropriate to congratulate the Starks and give them something pretty. He was a silly man, but sweet, and he gave Arya a bigger bouquet than to Sansa. Not that she cared, she’d be a detective one day, she didn’t have time for distractions. The flowers smelled nice, though, so Arya put them into an old vase and carefully arranged them in her bedroom. They’d be the first thing she’d see after waking up. 

At this point, most of the lawyers and police men were already squiffy, cheerfully recollecting Cersei’s defeat. The Starks still couldn’t celebrate in a bar like normal people, so they once again had to make a party in their flat. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves and Arya didn’t mind it, either. She was tired and staying at home was all she wanted right now. Sandor was probably the only man other than the guards who wasn’t drinking at all, instead he was constantly checking the room as if he expected Cersei to jump out of a closet at any moment. 

Arya’s good mood soured a little when the boys arrived and a flash of panic appeared in Sansa’s eyes, too. They’d thought their flat was perfectly wheelchair accessible, but apparently all the door frames were still too narrow for Bran’s wheelchair and Bran couldn’t possibly get through them. Shit. Sandor wasn’t one bit fazed, he quietly asked Bran something and when Bran laughed and nodded, Sandor carefully lifted the boy up and carried him into the living room. Jon quickly folded the wheelchair and followed them. Bran was soon seated again, successfully avoiding unwanted attention of the guests. But when Arya wanted to talk to him, she didn’t even get a chance. Bran and Sandor were both so engrossed in a fascinating conversation about security systems, they didn’t notice her at all.

“We should keep him,” Rickon said. 

Arya furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“The detective,” Rickon explained. “He said it would be safer if you two relocated to the north and he’d consider taking a job offer there, too. He could cooperate with our security team, I think it’s a really great idea.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’ve told Sandor already, we’re not moving until I finish school here.”

“You could finish your studies in Wintertown,” Rickon objected.

“Sure, Sansa has just changed university, she’ll be thrilled to do it yet again.”

Rickon shrugged. “It’s better than staying in this bloody city, where every second police man you’ll work with has been bought by the Lannisters. Even Clegane says it would be million times easier to keep you safe in Winterfell.”

“Well, it’s none of his business. We’re staying here.” Arya had built a life for herself in Lannisport, she’d even just started dating Gendry, she wasn’t going to risk her relationship and move merely to appease Sandor.

“Jon said the same, but wouldn’t it be nice if we all lived in the same place?”

Arya’s expression softened a bit. “We’ll see each other all the time now, Rickon,” she assured him once again.

She ruffled his red hair in a playful gesture, but the teenager didn’t as much as smile. “Only until Cersei gets you,” he retorted.

Arya was almost glad when Rickon joined Bran’s and Sandor’s conversation, trying to get some macabre stories out of the detective. She didn’t understand why all her siblings had to be obsessed with Sandor. Couldn’t they find some friends of their own? This was turning into a bad habit. Right now, Arya however welcomed a moment of solitude, she didn’t want to hear one more word about moving away. Her enemies were in prison. She was studying at a great school, she had a great boyfriend and all she asked for was a bit of stability. Why couldn’t everybody just respect it? Arya was great at self-defence, nothing would happen to her.

Arya and Gendry found a quiet corner for themselves, so that they could plan their first trip. Gendry was taking Arya hiking into mountains and she couldn’t wait to be without her security guards for the first time in years. There were some perks to being with a police man, who knew how to arrange everything. It would be just the two of them, sleeping in the wilderness. Together. Well, may be not really sleeping together, but she wouldn’t mind snuggling to him at night. Was Gendry expecting more? Arya bit her lip. They’d only been on three dates, she hoped he understood that she wasn’t ready yet.

Arya was wondering how to tell Gendry she hadn’t dated anyone before. Perhaps he knew already? Sometimes Arya wished she was as experienced as Sansa. Sansa always knew how to talk to men, and whether she wanted to befriend them, or keep them at arm's length, she exuded confidence. She hadn’t been like that with Joffrey, her first boyfriend, but now she could easily wrap any man around her finger. Even Sandor. 

Arya’s attention was caught by the sight of Sansa talking to Sandor again. The man had to bend down to whisper into Sansa’ ear, the height difference was so freakish. Arya had never paid much attention to Sandor’s physique. Only now that she saw him in a different light, she noticed everything. He was impossibly huge. Sansa was taller than Arya and yet she was completely dwarfed by Sandor. Besides, Sansa had basically no muscle tone and there she was, flirting with Sandor, who was the most muscular man Arya had ever known. He trained like a soldier after all, even though he’d left army ages ago, and every morning he casually lifted weights thrice as heavy as Sansa. He could break Sansa in two, didn’t she realize it?

Sansa was beaming with happiness today, not only because of Cersei’s defeat, but also because she had so many guests. She even changed into a different dress, she always had a perfect dress for every occasion. How much did she spend on clothing anyway? And now she was making Sandor waste his money, too. “You look so handsome in that suit,” Sansa purred to Sandor, laying her hand on his chest. Arya cringed. Was this how Sansa got him? Did men really fall for this? Unfortunately, Sansa was being honest, she really thought Sandor looked great in a posh suit from a posh tailor. He was the Hound, not a pretty model, he should be wearing pug T-shirts and jeans.

Sandor smirked. “The little bird is drunk already,” he murmured.

“Not yet,” Sansa assured him and ceremoniously handed him a plate with a lemon cake, clearly thinking it was the best gift ever given. 

More food. Floods of food. Arya had no idea where Sansa had stored it all, but she was clearly determined to reward everyone by feeding them to death. When one plate was cleared, she quickly rushed into the kitchen, so that she could bring two instead. Why couldn’t she just sit down for a moment and talk with their guests?

“Where is Sansa?” Jon was soon asking, as if it wasn’t obvious. “She promised to make me some southern drink.”

“Perhaps she realized she doesn’t have to listen to you,” Sandor growled.

“Oh, I didn’t mean…” Jon looked up in surprise. “She herself offered to make it for me.”

“Humph.”

“She really loves organizing parties and taking care of everything, you know,” Jon tried to explain himself.

“I do know,” Sandor nodded. “It’s you who haven’t lived even in the same city as Lady Sansa for years.”

Jon chuckled. “Well, thankfully we’re in frequent contact these days, it’s just as if we saw each other every day.”

“Really?” Sandor stayed sceptical. “So she sings you songs about brave knights and makes sure you get enough rest?”

“No, she… what? Why would she do that?” Jon blinked. “We just talk a lot, so I know exactly how happy she is whenever she gets a chance to invite you and your colleagues and show you her gratitude. We’re adults, she doesn’t have a reason to sing for me anymore,” he laughed.

“You're right, she doesn’t,” Sandor agreed, a little too smugly.

Jon scratched the back of his head, casting a glance towards the kitchen. “It’s taking her a while, isn’t it? I should help her, I guess.”

“I’m helping Lady Sansa,” Sandor scowled. “If you finish your plate, I’ll bring it back to her right away.”

“Oh,” Jon quickly stuffed his mouth with the last two pies. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Sandor grabbed the empty plate and disappeared in the kitchen. Jon almost suffocated on the pies, but he did so gladly, proud of his contribution to the world's peace. Arya sighed. This was going to be a long party.


	21. Chapter 21

Sandor briefly came back with more bottles and snacks, but he disappeared just as quickly and Arya didn’t like it. What were Sansa and Sandor talking about when they were alone in the kitchen? He was trying to convince her to move to the north, wasn’t he? Arya needed to know.

When Bran ate off all his favourite garlic rolls, Arya promptly used to opportunity and she offered to bring him some more.

But Bran stopped her. “No, don’t go in the kitchen right now.”

“Why not?” she didn’t understand. Bran couldn’t get there himself, the door frames were too narrow.

He shrugged. “I’m like a garlic on wheels already, could you perhaps get me that salad over there?”

“Salad? You want salad?”

“And some bread, please.”

Arya looked at the table. “No, get that yourself!” Bran never asked for anything unless he couldn’t do it himself, so what game was he playing? “I’ll bring the rolls, I need to get some stuff from the kitchen anyway.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Rickon warned her.

“Oh, really?” Arya sniggered and confidently walked past by him to the kitchen.

Sansa and Sandor were talking in quiet voices, making Arya even more curious. If Sansa wanted to move away, Arya should know about it, too! She stayed still, hidden behind the fridge and strained her ears to make out what they were saying.

“So what?” Sandor was growling. “We won’t be seeing much of each other now anyway.”

“Why not?” Sansa asked.

“Why should we?” Sandor rasped and Arya could see his mouth twitching. “It’s just like you told your uncle. Your family will take care of the security and I have other cases to work on.”

“I see.”

Sandor nodded. “You won’t be needing me anymore,” he noted bitterly.

“And what if I do need you?”

Sandor snapped his head to Sansa. “You do?”

“I think so. I think I need someone to lift me up onto this cupboard right now.”

“What?” Sandor scowled again. “Why?”

Arya couldn’t already see much of Sansa and now the redhead was even silent. What was happening? Sansa waited and waited, until Sandor sighed in resignation and grumpily lifted her up, so that she could sit on a cupboard. And so that Arya could get a much better view of the couple. Sandor was surprisingly gentle with Sansa, acting as if she was made of priceless porcelain. He’d never been this careful when moving Arya around. Sansa’s face was suddenly on Sandor’s eye level and Sandor’s mouth twitched even more than before. “What?” he growled. “Does the little bird now need a perch to sit on?”

Sansa didn’t let Sandor take a step away from her, instead she cupped his face with her hands and pressed her lips to his. He starred at her then. “Little bird…”

“Perches are useful, are they not?” Sansa smiled, her fingers still buried in his hair. 

“It’s not very smart to provoke old dogs, little bird,” Sandor warned her, trying to look scary and indifferent and failing at both.

Arya couldn't hear what Sansa murmured. Arya really wanted to understand what was going on between these two, but if she stepped any closer, they would see her. Unfortunately, their voices stayed hushed and quiet, unlike the groan that escaped Sandor’s lips when Sansa turned her attention to his earlobe. Yikes. Arya didn’t need to see and hear that. Why did those two have to kiss, why couldn’t they talk loud and clear? How should Arya form an objective opinion about their relationship? And did Sansa want to move away, or not?

Besides, there was a party going on in the other room, it really wasn’t the best time to be feeling each other up. Sansa and Sandor whispered something to each other, but all Arya caught were some sweethearts and little birds. She peered some more. Oh, no, it looked almost as if those two were shagging, they were both fully clothes, but their bodies were moving in unison. This was weird. This was so weird! Sandor was old. And huge. And ugly. And Sansa didn’t mind it. Seven bloody hells, what’s happened to the world? And where had Sansa’s manners gone?

When Sandor made one more ridiculous sound and savagely grind his hips against Sansa, Arya closed her eyes and quickly retreated. She was creeped out enough for one day. She had wanted to see how the hell this couple could ever work, but all she wanted now was to get that visual out of her head. And then she walked into her brothers.

“No garlic rolls for you!” Arya barked out.

Bran and Rickon laughed and they even had the audacity to high-five each other.

“So,” Rickon gave her a self-satisfied smile. “Was it a good idea?”

Arya ignored her brothers, her cousin, even her bloody sister. She needed a drink.


	22. Chapter 22

Sansa was bloody annoying. Why did she love parties so much, when she never actually enjoyed them? Even now, when the boys were in Lannisport, Sansa was still too busy to talk to them. She had to be pouring drunk idiots more drinks instead. One of the policemen even crashed into her, too drunk to stand anymore. Well, at least watching Sandor freak out added some fun to the evening. Sandor gently helped Sansa back on her feet, while simultaneously trying to murder his colleague with his stare. When he made sure Sansa was fine, Sandor took a long time to thoroughly explain to the man how utterly useless his entire existence was. And then he threw him out, of course. Along with two guards who had made some sleazy comments about Sansa.

“I wish Sansa would just sit down with us for a moment.” Bran sighed.

“Nah, she’s always like this,” Arya tried to explain. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Bran still didn’t want to accept the reality. “Hey, Sansa!” he called after her. “Can’t you sit down with us for a moment?” 

“Sorry, Bran,” the redhead smiled sweetly, bringing their siblings more tea. “I have things to do,” she disappeared again.

“See?” Arya raised her brows. “It’s hopeless. She’s completely barmy.”

“She has to rest,” Rickon frowned. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” Arya wondered. “You’ll steal all the cakes?” Sansa probably had more hidden under her bed anyway.

But Rickon had already strode up to Sandor. “Detective?” he disturbed the giant. “Is Sansa alright?”

“She says she is,” Sandor grumbled, this time glaring daggers at Gendry for a change. Wait, what did he have against Gendry?

Rickon was meanwhile trying to make himself taller. “When she fell down, it looked really bad,” he claimed. “What if she won’t be able to move tomorrow again?”

This finally got Sandor’s full attention. “What?” he looked down at the teenager.

“Aye, Sansa had a horrible accident when she was little and she’s had a lot of back issues since then. One wrong move like this and her back is screwed up for the rest of the week.”

Sandor’s ugly face paled. “She said she was fine,” he gasped.

Rickon shrugged. “She’s like that, she never wants to rest, until it’s too late.”

Sansa returned, apparently wanting to feed starving masses instead of a few wasted lawyers. And as she bent down to pick up empty trays, she winced ever so slightly.

“See?” Rickon said triumphally. “If she doesn’t sit down with us immediately, she won’t be able to move for days again.”

“Seven hells,” Sandor grunted. “Why did nobody tell me?” he barked at Rickon and rushed to save Sansa. Everybody always wanted to save Sansa, usually making her situation much worse in the process. What was wrong with men?

And by the way, what was wrong with Arya’s brothers? “What in the seven hells you are doing?” Arya hissed as soon as Rickon sat down next to her.

“Talking?” Rickon suggested.

“But what’s that load of tosh were you telling Sandor?”

“Well, Sansa does suffer from backpain.”

“Not like that!” Arya protested.

“No, it’s even worse, she almost couldn’t move at all after she fell off the horse,” Rickon scowled.

“Once! Twelve years ago! You can’t even remember that.”

“But Bran does.”

Arya turned to Bran, who was wearing a disturbingly cheerful smile. 

“I remember everything I need,” Bran pointed out calmly.

Arya suspiciously narrowed her eyes at her brother, wanting to question his motives. She was distracted by Sansa’s voice, though. Sandor was just trying to convince Sansa to sit down and Sansa wasn’t having any of it. “Don’t you think I would know if my back hurt?” the redhead protested.

“You’ll know it tomorrow,” Sandor growled, but when he met Sansa’s gaze, his whole expression suddenly mellowed. “Little bird, please, can’t we sit down for a moment with your family?” he stroked her back tenderly. Did he really think nobody saw it?

Sansa glanced to the sofa were Rickon with Arya were seated across from Bran and her eyes immediately brightened. “Alright, alright,” she squeezed Sandor’s arm. “You love them already, don’t you?”

“Humph.”

The couple walked away so that they could pour themselves a drink, too, and as Sandor laid his huge paw on the small of Sansa’s back, she visibly shivered.

“Are you cold?” the Hound got all suspicious again.

“No, I’m not!” she frowned. “I’m not in pain, I’m not cold and shockingly enough, I’m not dying. Sweetheart, why can’t you just believe everything could be great for once?” she lowered her voice and Arya couldn’t hear what was said anymore.

Rickon snorted. The boy had been listening to Sansa, too, hadn’t he? Arya couldn’t believe it, her brothers had no manners at all. They lived with uncle Benjen, the perfect gentleman, they should have been even more polite and respectful than Sansa. 

And Bran looked all too pleased with himself once again. Arya pinned him with her glare. “You!” she hissed.

“Bran. My name is Bran.” 

“You!”

“Hi,” Bran smiled at her sweetly.

“You told Rickon about Sansa’s back surgery, didn’t you?”

“Of course, he did!” Rickon interjected. “I should have been told a lot sooner!”

Arya wasn’t paying attention to her youngest sibling. “Bran, have you by any chance also told Jon that Sandor hated Sansa?” she continued in her interrogation.

“No, I merely told him that Clegane criticized her a lot.”

“You’re doing this on purpose!” Arya realized.

“Well, you did tell me to enjoy myself,” Bran looked like a picture of innocence.

“That doesn’t mean you should be making fun of Sandor! Do you have any idea what he’s done for us?”

“Aye,” Rickon nodded. “That’s why we’ll keep him. He just needs a bit of encouragement.”

“Encouragement for what?” Arya wondered, but she got no satisfying answer, just stupid teenage smiles. “Is that what you’re doing?” she inquired. “You think you’re encouraging Sandor? By being mean to him?”

“We’re not being mean, we’re just sharing relevant information,” Rickon explained.

“Exactly!” Bran nodded. “We had to endure two hours of an ode to a little bird,” he reminded Arya. “The pretty bird sings like an angel - and she sings for Clegane. She understands the law better than anyone, she is the gentlest person in Westeros and it will get her killed in a thousand different ways. We’ve heard it all, Arya. Even from Jon, when he doesn’t talk about Ygritte, he keeps blathering on about how Sansa accepts him as a real Stark now. Why can’t we share some knowledge, too?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Ah, not really,” Bran smiled. “We haven’t even told Clegane what you are planning next weekend with that sergeant of yours.”

“Actually, that could be interesting, too,” Rickon said thoughtfully. 

“Stop it!”

Sandor was genuinely worried about Sansa, didn’t the boys realize it? And it was damn good that he was worried about the Starks, it was exactly this concern that had saved Arya’s life more than once. It wasn’t funny. When Sansa and Sandor sat down on the smaller sofa next to Arya, Sandor handed Sansa her ridiculously pink drink. He then leisurely stretched one of his arms along the back of the sofa and looked around, his expression finally calm and content. He wasn’t actually touching Sansa, but the gesture looked oddly possessive anyway. Arya wondered whether they were trying to make their relationship official, or they were just dumb.

“How do you feel, little bird?” Sandor tried to mould his impossibly deep, raspy voice into something soft and melodic, failing miserably. Now he just sounded like a drowning troll.

“I could be warmer,” Sansa flashed him a secretive smiled as if she’d said something clever and Sandor repaid her with the most unhoundly look ever. Arya curled her lip. Seven hells, but those two were annoying. Was the fearsome fighter truly lost?

“So, Sansa,” Arya turned to the couple. “Did you tell Sandor about that anonymous letter?”

Sansa immediately shot her a murderous look. And next to her, there was the good old Hound again. Well, the boys perhaps had a point.


	23. Chapter 23

Life was back to normal again. The boys were back in the North and Arya returned from her amazing trip with Gendry. She went to school every day and she went shooting every evening and everything was suspiciously great. The Mountain was dead, Cersei was in prison, police was actually working. Rickon even passed his biology test, which was quite a shock for the family. Arya’s brothers unfortunately picked up a bad habit of calling Sandor several times a week, discussing with him everything from school to politics. Arya didn’t know why the Hound wasted so much time on two teenagers, but he’d been the one who convinced Rickon to study harder for the test. For that at least she was grateful.

Today, Arya came home with a big grin on her face. Gendry was amazing, he’d started teaching Arya how to make her own bullets and they’d had the best date in the history of dates. But when she arrived home, the security guards informed her that Clegane was there again. What an unexpected development, Arya thought grimly. Sandor had been at their flat the day before, too. And the day before that. And the day before that. Was he actually living with them now, or what?

Arya heard Sandor’s familiar rasp as soon as she entered the flat. “Little bird, please, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Why can’t you just accept that I love touching you?” Sansa replied. “You’re magnificent.”

“Magnificent?” Sandor snorted. “Seven hells, girl, I’m not your bloody knight. Do you know how many people I’ve killed? Even in a fight, with my bare hands. I’m a killer, an ugly old dog, not your prince.”

“And yet you and your team have saved more people than anybody else I know.”

“Doesn’t make a difference. I’m still fifteen years older than you. Just look at us!”

“I am looking, Sandor. And I like what I see,” Sansa said firmly. “Sweetheart, if you think that way about us, why did you come here today?”

“Well… ” Sandor hesitated. “I had to tell you about the anonymous letter, didn’t I?” he grumbled unconvincingly.

“Ah, so it’s strictly professional then. Nobody’s hand on nobody’s butt.”

“I didn’t mean…” Sandor huffed. “I’m just saying you should think it through before jumping into anything. There are pretty men everywhere. Pretty rich men of your age, who would give their arm just to be with you. Even highborns, they are not all dead.”

“And you’d prefer to see me with them?” Sansa provoked the Hound. “Do you want to see me in another man’s arms? Do you want him to touch me, to kiss me, to have me naked in his bed? Do you want my safety to be in a stranger’s hands, do you want…”

“Stop it!” Sandor finally snapped. “Stop,” his breathing came out laboured. “Seven hells, girl, I just want you to be happy, to have everything you want, everything pretty,” he snarled. “You should live like a princess. And I just… I just…”

“Shh…” Sansa answered in a soothing voice. “I know, Sandor, I know.”

And then there was silence, interrupted only by some groans. They were snogging again, weren’t they? They were always snogging when Arya came home. And while Sansa knew that Arya saw right through them, the stupid Hound still thought nobody had any idea about their relationship. How he could have ever defeated the Westerosi mafia remained a mystery. He wasn’t able to even come up with a believable excuse for visiting Sansa.

Arya slammed the door shut and proceeded to make as many noises as possible. When she finally entered the living room, Sansa was just fasting the last buttons on her blouse. “Oh, hi, Arya!” the beauty greeted her in a too high-pitched voice. “You’re home early!”

Sandor ignored Arya altogether, he instead put a laptop in his lap and started studying something intently. His face was just as red as Sansa’s and his hair was completely tousled, exposing his scars more than ever. How could Sansa be attracted to him? 

Sansa smiled at Arya. “We’re going through the theories about the anonymous letter!”

“I thought that’s why Sandor came here yesterday,” Arya pointed out. “Is there some new development?”

“We ran the DNA through the database,” Sandor finally acknowledged her presence.

“And?”

“No match,” the man rasped.

“Yeah, and you just had to come to tell us that ground-breaking news in person, didn’t you?”

Sandor scowled. “You should take it more seriously. There’s no way a letter should have got past the guards, you’re not realizing what it means.”

“That you will have to visit us tomorrow again?” Arya guessed.

Sansa decided to change the topic. “Well, Arya, how was your date?”

“Great." Arya cheered up immediately. "We stayed at the workshop,” she proudly showed Sansa her creation. “I made those all by myself.”

Sansa hesitantly touched the bullets, as if she expected them to explode at any moment. “Pretty,” she politely complimented bullets. “So this is what you were doing the whole time?”

Arya happily nodded. “I told you it was fantastic. Tobho was there, too, I even befriended his dog.”

“Befriended him?” Sandor asked sceptically.

“Yeah, he’s funny. Reminds me of Stranger.”

Sandor shook his head. “Waters should know better. That dog could bite your head off, you shouldn’t go anywhere near him.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at the giant. “What does it have to do with Gendry? It’s Arya’s own choice.”

“Doesn’t make it any less stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, because Arya understands dogs,” Sansa retorted sharply.

“Oh, does she?” Sandor sneered. “Tell me about that when she gets herself hurt.”

“And what if she just gets herself a new friend?”

Arya watched the exchange in utter confusion. What in the seven hells were those two talking about? It didn’t really matter, because they were clearly quarrelling. They would break up soon, wouldn’t they? They weren’t even truly dating yet and they were already arguing. The breakup had been inevitable all along, but it was hurtful to see it anyway. 

Arya went to change into her bedroom, remembering all the reasons why the relationship would fall apart and ruin her friendship with Sandor. But when she returned to the living room, Sansa was straddling Sandor, her long hair falling like a fiery curtain around his head. Sandor held her face in his huge paws, apparently trying to bite it off. They were kissing again! Arya blinked, even more confused than before, and she retreated back to her bedroom. This time, she entered the living room making more noise than a herd of elephants.

“Oh, Arya!” Sansa jumped up, looking guilty. “How was your date?”

Arya raised her brows. Perhaps a breakup wasn’t really the worst option.


	24. Chapter 24

Sansa and Sandor were about the most ridiculous couple Arya knew. Sandor had been away on a business trip in Stormlands for two weeks and for two weeks Arya woke up to whispering and giggling coming from the other room. Sansa not only had to bother Sandor when she was going to sleep, she had to wake him up, too. How come the couple still had anything to talk about anyway? Sansa didn’t even know how to load a gun and she certainly had nothing to add on the topic of fitness. But Sandor had even sent Sansa a postcard, he was that old. A post card of some rare bird in a castle garden. And to think he used to be quite a reasonable man. 

Arya luckily had Gendry, who hadn’t gone crazy yet. Unfortunately, he’d told her that she was cute and Arya hated it. She wasn’t cute, she’d be a detective one day. She wouldn’t mind being a sexy detective, but a cute one? She wasn’t cute. She was a wolf. A bloody dangerous wolf. It made her insecure now when Gendry starred at her, she didn’t know what would make her look sexier. She could bite him, would it be convincing enough?

Well, perhaps she didn’t need to do that after all, because she started to feel something pushing against her thigh again. She slid her hand down, exploring. This was so cool! The man was hard because of Arya. She laughed a little against Gendry’s mouth. She hadn’t thought men would react to her this way, but it emboldened her further. She was just about to take her shirt off, when she heard Sansa’s merry voice.

“I’m not here at all,” the redhead announced. “I’ll just change quickly and I’ll be on my way.”

Arya pushed Gendry away, pretending she hadn’t been touching anything. “What in the seven hells are you doing here?” she yelled after her sister.

Sansa had already disappeared in her bedroom, but Stranger didn’t follow her. Instead he sat down across from the sofa, watching the couple in disapproval and drooling on the carpet.

“What?” Arya asked him. “That’s Gendry, you know him.”

Sansa had been taking care of Stranger only for two weeks, but her corruptive influence was already showing. Stranger was a grumpy old bastard, but he always obeyed Sandor’s every command, even the unspoken ones. There were however no rules with Sansa and the furry monster realized it all too soon. Now Stranger jumped on the sofa, sitting his giant arse between Arya and Gendry. It took him a while to make himself comfortable and when he was done wriggling, he released a scornful sigh. Drops of saliva were falling on Gendry’s legs, one by one soaking into his jeans. Arya wondered whether Stranger had instructions from Sandor, or he was this annoying on his own.

“I’ll get the books,” Gendry stood up. He’d originally planned to help Arya study for her exam, they just got a little distracted. But now that Sansa was here, Arya had no other choice but study. 

When Arya wanted to follow Gendry, Stranger climbed into her lap, pinning her in place. Stranger wasn’t really a dog, he was a huge, black hound from the seven hells and he almost certainly ate horses for breakfast. And now he was sitting in Arya’s lap, his head somewhere above hers. Which probably meant she had his saliva in her hair now. Yep, this would definitely help the sexy look.

“Get off, me, Stranger!” Arya commanded and Stranger licked her face. 

“Aww,” Sansa entered the room. “He loves you so much!”

“Get off me!” Arya poked into the dog.

“Stranger, come here!” Sansa called out to him and Stranger immediately jumped up, almost breaking his legs while hurrying to Sansa.

The redhead smiled at him. “You’re so cute, do you know that?” she knelt down to scratch his giant belly. “You’re the cutest little puppy.”

Sansa laughed as Stranger slobbered over her fingers and Arya scowled at the scene in front of her. “Why are you so dressed up?” she wondered. “Jeyne has a new-born, she needs someone to help her while she’s travelling, not someone to give her a complex.”

“I’ve babysat little Beric already, they have other things to do now as a family. But Loras is in the city, too, so I’ll meet him at his hotel.”

“Loras? What Loras?”

“Loras Tyrell, how many Lorases do you know?”

“Why in the seven hells would you want to see that guy?”

Sansa shrugged. “We have a lot in common. He reached out to me a month ago and we’ve been talking ever since. I saw him yesterday, too.”

“What?” Arya gasped. “You didn’t tell me!”

“It wasn’t that important. And the guards know about it.”

“But you can’t be meeting with a Tyrell! Just because he’s not in prison doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”

“May be he turned a blind eye to some things, but in the end Loras testified against the Lannisters, Arya,” Sansa reminded her. “And you can’t blame him for the crimes of his ancestors.”

“No, but I can blame him for being a selfish, entitled jerk whose music could be used for torture! Does he know you’re dating Sandor?”

“What does it have to do with him?”

“Everything! Loras just wants to get you in bed.”

Sansa smiled. “I don’t think I need to be worried about that, Arya.”

Sansa was so bloody naïve! Loras Tyrell was disgusting, back when he’d had an active career, there was a different girl by his side every day. Why would Sansa want to spend time with him? “Does Sandor know about you meeting him?”

“He knows I’m meeting a friend today.”

“But you didn’t tell him it’s Loras, did you?”

“No,” Sansa confirmed, not looking one bit guilty. 

“And what would he think about it?” Arya asked pointedly.

Sansa shrugged. “Sandor sees threats in everything, but I can’t very well hide myself in the flat and never go out. And Loras is in the witness protection program, too, there’ll be more than enough security guards in the hotel.”

Arya scowled. This wasn’t what she meant. She would hate it if Gendry was spending evenings alone with the prettiest girl in Westeros. It wasn’t right.

“Loras is planning a return to the stage when everything is back to normal again,” Sansa explained. “And he finally wants to be honest with the public. He needs my support.”

“Honest? A Tyrell?” Arya snickered. “The Tyrells always need something from someone, they’re just never the ones who help the others. That’s not friendship, Sansa.”

“But it could be one day. Loras has been so lonely after Renly’s death, I don’t want him to give up on hope.”

“We’ve lost more friends than that and the Tyrells never had a problem with it.”

Sansa sighed. “Be that as it may, I want to be there for Loras. He reminds me of myself in King’s Landing, Arya. And I would have used some help back then.”

Sansa didn’t want to hear reason at all. When the beauty left the living room to put her shoes on, Arya instead turned to the dog. “Stranger?” 

The hound sniffed at her hand, thinking she was about to give him a snack.

Arya shook her head, showing him her empty hands. “Sansa is with Sandor, which means you get yummy fresh meals every day and you go on lots of trips. You like that, don’t you?”

Stranger tilted his head to side.

“Now there’s a man who wants to take Sansa and all the home-cooked food away from you. He stinks, he’s a Tyrell. Sandor doesn’t like Tyrells, he wanted to see them all in prison, remember?”

Stranger woofed in agreement.

“Good. So, what will you do about it now, Stranger?” Arya gave the hound a pointed look.

Stranger thought about it for a moment, drooling again in concentration. He thought more, he thought harder. But when it finally clicked in his ugly head, the dog sprinted after Sansa. 

He just wanted another lunch, didn’t he?


	25. Chapter 25

Stranger was a traitor. Arya quietly entered the little room, accompanied only by her inconspicuous guard. But the giant dog didn’t have any better idea than to happily run to her, welcoming her with all the noise and saliva he could produce. Even despite that, Arya saw everything she needed. The room was decorated by a sickening amount of roses. There was Sansa holding the man’s hand, gazing at him with glittering eyes. And Stranger who didn’t as much as bark at them.

“Oh, hi, Arya, what are you doing here?” Sansa looked up in surprise. She didn’t even blush. Whenever she was with Sandor, she was madly blushing, acting all weird and guilty, but with Loras she looked completely natural. Confident. Seven hells. How could Sandor win against a famous pop star?

Loras wiped his eyes and stood up. “Hello, Arya, it’s so great to see you again!” he smiled at her warmly, shaking her hand with both of his. “Please, sit down,” he offered her a chair.

Loras looked even better than in the past. He wasn’t the skinny boy anymore, he’d grown into a man. With his sharp features and elegant stature he looked every inch a prince of Sansa’s dreams. No wonder she was so taken with him. But he wasn’t a man for a relationship, she was stupid if she thought he’d ever settle down with her. 

Sansa and Loras had been seeing each other for a week now. According to Sansa all the security measures around the Tyrells would be lifted in a month and Loras would return to his home and normal life. Lucky bastard. Uncle Benjen had been able to return to Winterfell with the boys, too, but it was different. Even though the North was fairly safe, Winterfell was now guarded more than the parliament. Sansa and Arya had meanwhile gone through several identity changes and unless they returned to the North, they would continue to live under their new names for at least another year. Alayne and Cat. Arya hated those girls. They had fake hair, fake address, fake everything. For this reason Sansa and Arya both surrounded themselves almost exclusively with people from their past, or police men, whom they could trust. They were both sick of playing roles. Luckily it was all only temporary. It wasn’t realistic for the highborn like the Starks, or the Martells to start a completely new life elsewhere with a different identity like most of the other witnesses. Some lords had to disappear for a while, but in the end they would all go back to their lives and solve the security problem with more guards, more cameras around their houses and more paranoia. The Starks were probably in a greater danger, but still, why was Loras even allowed a comeback? He was the most famous highborn, if he could sing in front of thousands crazy fans, why couldn’t Arya go around, introducing herself as Arya? It wasn’t fair. And the Hound even thought that Arya and Sansa should be accompanied by guards for the rest of their lives! Sandor was crazy. Ugh, sometimes Arya really hated him.

“Has Sansa told you about her boyfriend?” Arya asked Loras in a sweet, conversational tone.

Sansa raised her brows. “Arya, that’s really not necessary.”

“No, no,” Loras shook his head. “We’ve talked enough about me, Sansa, I want to know how you are doing! A new man, huh?” he smiled. “You didn’t tell me!”

“Well…”

“He’s big,” Arya pointed out. “Huge. He can take out anyone.”

“That’s great! He can keep you safe then,” Loras laughed, touching Sansa’s hand again and the redhead finally blushed. So this was the game Loras was playing. Arya saw right through him. He thought he’d lend a sympathetic ear to Sansa, he’d comfort her when she was lonely or angry at Sandor, and then he’d use the chance to get her to bed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the worst strategy, it was quite obviously working. Why in the seven hells was Sansa so naïve? Why did she think Loras was her friend? The Tyrells never had a problem with the Lannisters killing Ned Stark, Loras himself started opposing the lions only when Cersei threatened his sister. Arya didn’t trust Loras one bit.

“Is your boyfriend a Northman?” Loras wondered.

“No, he’s not.”

“But he will be,” Arya suggested. “He wants to move to North with Sansa.”

“Arya!” Sansa hissed.

“Ah, it’s serious then?” there was no end to the singer’s fake smiles. 

“It’s a new relationship,” Sansa clarified.

“I’m sure he’s crazy about you,” Loras stated.

Sansa lowered her lashes.

“Perhaps even more than you are about him,” the most obnoxious pop star in Westeros tried to be clever. Arya exchanged disgusted looks with Stranger. The dog took it as a cue and once again started searching for a snack in her hands. 

“I really shouldn’t talk about him,” Sansa peeped.

Loras sighed. “There are really not many things we’re allowed to talk about, are there?”

“Sansa’s boyfriend is also a great fighter,” Arya pointed out. “He works out every day.”

“Nice,” Loras appreciated. “A manly man, then? I like that, Renly was the same. What else? Do you share some hobbies with that boy, Sansa? Does he take you to opera?”

“Sansa can’t go to theatre, we’re hiding,” Arya snapped. If Loras thought he’d score some points for himself, he was mistaken. Sandor was a million times better match for Sansa. So what if Sandor hated opera? Every reasonable person hated opera. Even Arya did and she was an exceptionally tolerant woman.

“Actually, he loves Jonquil’s aria,” Sansa smiled shily. “He can’t get enough of that. We will definitely go to see Florian and Jonquil as soon as we get the chance.”

Arya stared at her sister in astonishment. Who was she talking about? Sandor? Sandor liking the high-pitched screeching that was Jonquil’s song?

“Ah, that’s great,” Loras continued to play the role of a caring friend. “I hope you’ll be able to come to my concert one day, perhaps he’ll enjoy that, too.”

Sansa answered with the polite smile that made it clear she didn’t consider it very likely.

But Loras didn’t get the hint. “What music does he like?”

“Anything if I’m the one singing,” Sansa blushed again, her ears turning completely red. “He plays guitar like a professional, he’s really amazing, so he often accompanies me. He knows all my favourite songs already.”

What? Arya frowned. Sandor played guitar? Since when? Did Sansa know something Arya did not? Or did she have more boyfriends? What in the seven hells was she even talking about?

“That’s so cute!” Loras gushed.

Sansa gave him an abashed nod. “He’s adorable.”

“He’s a badass,” Arya clarified firmly.

“But very gentle,” Sansa added.

“His punch could kill a giant.”

“And he’s so romantic!”

Arya shook her head. She wasn’t sure Sandor’s best qualities were being appreciated enough. This wasn’t going well at all and Stranger wasn’t going to do anything about Loras, either. Arya clenched her teeth. She needed to have a talk with Sandor.


	26. Chapter 26

Sandor luckily arrived at the time when Sansa had to be at school, so Arya got to him first. He seemed glad enough to see her and for a moment everything was just like it once used to be. At least until Sandor opened his mouth.

“Do you have any news about your sister?” he rasped. He really couldn’t think of anything else these days, could he? 

“No,” Arya snapped. “The exam didn’t start even ten minutes ago!”

“She was very nervous.”

“Yeah, Sansa always says she’ll fail and then she gets the best marks,” Arya snickered. “I have it the other way round and I don’t see you freaking out about it.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Sandor scowled. “I’m just asking.”

Arya watched as Sandor continued to unpack his suitcase. He had quite a few new things. And when he touched a tie he’d got from Sansa, he was especially careful. Arya tried to come up with a good jab at him, but before she thought of anything, Sandor thrust a huge book into her arms. “Here, you might have some use of this.”

Seven hells, it was an old Targaryen book describing the biggest criminal investigations of the Valyrian era. It was in her arms and it reeked of history. Had Sandor stolen it from the archives? For her?

Arya blinked. “Wow, where did you get it?”

“In Stormlands,” Sandor smirked.

Arya made a face at him. “No, seriously! I’ve been looking for this everywhere, antiquarians keep repeating to me that the last of these were all in museums, unavailable to the public.”

Sandor shrugged. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough, detective.”

Arya grinned. “How long can I keep it?”

“Depends on how long you plan on living.”

“You mean I can keep this?” Arya starred at him. “Me?”

A smile tugged at Sandor’s lips. “When you’re finished with your thesis, you can put it in the Winterfell library. One of these should be in the North, shouldn’t it?”

“Wow, that’s so great! Thanks!” Arya beamed at him, clutching the precious book to herself. “Do you have something for Sansa, too?” she wondered.

“Well,” Sandor cleared his throat, considering something. He scratched the back of his head, looking uncertainly at Arya. “Perhaps you could help me?”

“With what?”

“I couldn’t decide which one she’d like more,” Sandor explained, taking two boxes out of his drawer. “I want to… I want to thank her for taking care of Stranger. What do you think?” he eagerly showed Arya some jewellery.

In one box there was a necklace with a delicate pendant in a shape of two birds. In the other one there were beautiful earrings decorated with small stones in the colour of Sansa’s eyes. Were those diamonds, or not? Arya never knew how anybody could tell the difference. Did detectives need to recognize that? It all looked too expensive anyway, had the Hound gone mad?

A grim thought came to her. “Sandor?” Arya furrowed her brows. “Do you have a guitar?”

Sandor starred at her, confused. “Yeah, I do. Two of them, actually. But that wouldn’t be a gift from my trip, would it?”

“I’m just asking,” Arya shrugged. “Give Sansa the necklace, it’s more casual. The earrings look like something for a special occasion.”

“Casual?” Sandor repeated, unsatisfied. “Well… She’s been taking care of Stranger for a month.”

“What about it?”

“I could give her both,” Sandor suggested.

Arya rolled her eyes. What was Sandor even doing? Sansa had completely messed his head up. With his salary he shouldn’t be wasting money on gifts for Sansa. Sandor had spent a lot of money on Arya before, too, but that was just because he’d been taking care of her. Those had all been practical purchases, not stupid jewellery. Arya narrowed her eyes at the earrings. Those really were diamonds, weren’t they? Sandor couldn’t just go and buy some nice earrings for one dragon like Arya did, of course he had to buy diamonds.

“Sansa has been seeing Loras Tyrell,” Arya blurted out, without really thinking it through.

Sandor finally tore his eyes away from the gifts, gaping at Arya in shock. “She has?” he breathed out.

“Yeah, well,” Arya hadn’t planned on saying it this bluntly. She couldn’t bear to see the pain in the Hound’s eyes. “She’s just been very lonely these past few weeks.”

“I see,” Sandor said quietly, still frozen. He slowly put down the two boxes, looking down at his hands.

“It doesn’t mean she wants to be with Loras!” Arya quickly assured him. “Sansa is very naïve, she trusts anyone.”

Sandor didn’t say a word, his expression was completely unreadable. What was he thinking about?

Sandor nodded. “Well, good for her,” he rasped quietly. He took a bottle out of his cabinet and poured himself a shot. “Loras Tyrell is…” Sandor cleared his throat. “Well, he can give her the lifestyle she deserves.”

“What?” Arya’s mouth fell open.

Sandor emptied the glass.

“Loras Tyrell is an idiot!” Arya clarified, as if it wasn’t obvious. “Sansa doesn’t want him, she’s just confused.”

Sandor shook his head and sat down at his table. “I’ve interrogated him a few times. He isn’t a bad lad. Very loyal. Rich,” Sandor continued drinking. “And pretty,” he noted bitterly.

“But that’s not important! He’s just fooling Sansa. She’s a dimwit if she trusts him.”

“Don’t speak like that about your sister!” Sandor growled. “She knows what’s best for her.”

“No, she doesn’t!” This wasn’t going the way Arya wanted at all. Sandor was supposed to get angry, confront Loras, make a scene. Anything that would show Sansa how much better Sandor was. He couldn’t just accept a defeat! If somebody tried to take Gendry away from Arya, she’d claw their eyes out.

Sandor wasn’t satisfied with his glass. He looked around for a moment, then grabbed a water glass and poured himself another drink. Arya watched in amazement, as he tossed that one down, too. She wondered whether he’d end up vomiting all over her.

“So the little bird has found herself a proper lord,” Sandor mumbled, starring into his glass. “As well as she should. I’m happy for her. Just… happy!” he emptied the bottle and tossed it aside, promptly replacing it with a new one.

“She doesn’t want Loras!” Arya tried to give Sandor some hope. “Not really! Loras is a great manipulator, he’s filling her head with lies. And may be, may be he’s the one who got an anonymous letter to her! Have you thought of that?”

Sandor’s phone buzzed and he quickly read the message, smiling in relief. “Sansa has passed the exam!” his eyes glittered as he starred on Sansa’s picture on his phone. “She’s so smart,” he caressed the screen with his thumb.

There was a long moment of silence, when Sandor probably forgot Arya was there. He was completely mesmerized by a stupid photo of Sansa. When had he taken the picture anyway? And where? It was an odd photo for the ever-so-perfect princess Sansa. She was wearing no make up in the picture, her hair was a wet mess and she was laughing madly with a beach in the background. But Sandor was looking at the photo as if he’d never seen Sansa look more beautiful. And nothing ever went unnoticed by Arya, so she knew immediately there was no such beach in Lannisport. Had those two gone on a trip without telling her?

Sandor swallowed and put his phone back into the pocket. “We’re going,” he announced then.

Arya quickly jumped up. Finally! That's what she wanted to hear! She’d finally get to say what she thought of the Tyrells. Loras would finally see who exactly Sansa’s boyfriend was. The pretty singer would piss himself and run away screaming. He’d regret ever speaking to Sansa. He’d make a fool of himself. And Sansa would laugh at him, finally appreciating how intimidating Sandor was. The Hound wasn't adorable at all, he was scary as hell and he'd scare Loras off for good.

“What’s the plan?” Arya was already excited.

“I’ll tell the little bird how happy I am for her!” Sandor stood up, his massive form reeling. “More than happy. It’s perfect. A perrrfect choice,” he slurred.

“But what will we do about Loras?”

“I’ll tell him he’s perfect, too,” Sandor decided. “I’ll show your pretty sister. I’ll show her how fine I’m with this.”

Arya watched as Sandor staggered out of the room, nearly falling on the unsuspecting guard. She really wasn’t sure things were going according to her plan.


	27. Chapter 27

“Don’t fall again,” Arya grunted.

“I was just looking for something, I never fall, you little she-wolf,” Sandor barked back at her.

And Stranger was barking, too. As soon as Arya and Sandor stepped out of the lift, Stranger started furiously scratching at the door, in the way Sandor would have never tolerated. Sansa had done it, she’d managed to spoil the most obedient dog in a single month. The nutty redhead luckily opened the door before the dog broke it. Stranger immediately ran towards Sandor, welcoming him with hysterical shrieks and howls. And Sansa wasn’t any better.

“Sandor!” Sansa squeaked and jumped into the man’s arms, kissing him fiercely. She brushed her fingers though his hair and rubbed her nose against his, smiling in a sudden burst of joy.

Sandor stared at her dumfounded. He caught Sansa by reflex, holding her in the air, so they were at the same eye level. Stranger was meanwhile running around them in circles, trying to speak a human language. Or was he singing? Either way, those were some horrible sounds he was producing.

“Have you drunk?” Sansa looked at Sandor with a puzzled expression. Only then she finally noticed the two shocked guards and Arya. “Oh… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I missed you too much,” she murmured to Sandor, blushing. She discreetly returned to the ground. “Hello,” she smiled at Arya’s guard and tagged Sandor into their flat.

While Sansa was exchanging some words with the security guards, Sandor squatted to pet Stranger. The dog licked his face so joyfully, Sandor ended on his arse. And Arya really wanted to know how they’d ever get the giant off the ground.

Sansa greeted them with a wide smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t help myself.”

Sandor looked up. “I’m your sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

But Sansa didn’t answer. “Why are you two soaking wet?” she had questions of her own. “Didn’t you go by car?”

Arya snorted. “We did, but then Sandor forgot how to walk. Or stand. Right when the rain was at its worst.”

“Oh,” Sansa still looked confused. “Sandor, puppy, why have you drunk so much? What’s happened?”

“He’s not a puppy!” Arya protested. “He’s a detective. Do you know that he’s been in the army? In a war? In an actual war? Sandor, tell her something!” If Sansa couldn’t appreciate Sandor’s best qualities, she would never love him. 

Sandor was so drunk that he still hadn’t even realized that his relationship with Sansa was supposed to be a secret. He could focus on one thing only. “Why do you call me your sweetheart?” 

Arya nodded. “Right! He’s the Hound!” He would keep Sansa much safer than Loras. He was the Hound, everybody was scared of him, Sansa should finally realize it.

Sansa shook her head. “Will somebody tell me what’s happened? Why are you two so weird and drunk today?”

“I’m not drunk at all!” Arya scowled.

“Oh, really?” Sansa pursed her lips. “What’s your excuse then?”

“You’re so bloody amazing, passing all the exams on your first attempt,” Sandor was mumbling again. “I should have been here.”

Sansa gently stroked his scarred cheek. “Sandor, what’s wrong? You’ve always called me when I needed you, there’s nothing to be so sad about! I’ve passed the exams and you’re back! Aren’t you happy to be back?”

“Right,” Sandor nodded. “Happy. I’m really happy for you and Loras. I’m completely fine with it. It’s great!” he repeated mechanically the same words he’d said a thousand times in the car.

“Loras?” Sansa furrowed her brows, thinking for a moment before turning to her sister. “Arya? What exactly have you told Sandor?” she asked sternly.

“What do you think?” Arya glared at her. It was frustrating to see Sandor like this, he should be fighting for Sansa. Perhaps they should have gone to Loras first, that would have got Sandor worked up alright.

Sansa rolled her eyes, she wasn’t remorseful at all. “Oh, dear,” she sighed and turned to Sandor. “She told you something about me dating Loras, didn’t she?”

“It’s fine,” Sandor’s mouth twitched. “A perfect little prince for the perfect little princess. It’s as it should be.”

“Sandor…”

“Really, you could have told me. Or did you think I cared?” Sandor snorted. “You know I’ve never had a relationship; I don’t give a rat’s arse about such shite.”

“Sandor…”

“I only wanted to shag you, anyway. But I can survive without it just fine, don’t worry, little bird, you deserve your pretty prince,” Sandor rasped. “A prince with a bloody castle. It’s great!”

“Sandor!” Sansa raised her voice. “Loras is merely my friend. I’m with you! Only you!”

“No, it’s fine, you think that I… what?” Sandor blinked. “But… but…”

“I’m with you,” Sansa repeated. “Unless you don’t want me anymore,” she looked like a wolf for once.

“No, no, seven hells,” Sandor’s voice broke in panic. “No! I… You’re… seven hells, you’re my little bird!" now he looked truly scared. "Have I fucked up?”

Sansa smiled again. “No, Sandor,” she caressed his cheek. “I think I have my siblings for that.”

Arya scowled. She still wasn’t buying it, Sansa wouldn’t keep her meetings with Loras a secret if there wasn’t something else behind it. But Sandor finally got back on his feet, looking at Sansa with a wondrous expression on his ugly face.

Sansa was meanwhile eyeing them both critically. “Now, you two, out of the wet clothes, before you catch a cold,” she ordered in an authoritative tone. Arya hated it when Sansa spoke in the same voice as their mother, she was so similar to her it was quite disturbing. And who did Sansa think she was, ordering Arya around? But Arya decided this wasn’t the time to complain, Sansa and Sandor needed some privacy. Or at least they needed to think they had it. Arya just nodded and slowly walked away.

“I don’t have anything to change into,” Sandor muttered.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it will be dry before you leave in the morning,” Sansa assured him.

Arya turned around, only to see Sandor’s stunned reaction. It wasn’t clear whether he was surprised, or he was about to be sick.

“But…”

Sansa undid one button of Sandor’s soaked shirt, then smiled mischievously and took his hand, dragging him towards her bedroom.

Arya watched them in confusion. She hadn’t expected her plan to work out so fast, she'd thought Sandor would have to fight for Sansa. Challenge Loras to a duel, perhaps. Arya would have liked that, she’d always wanted to see a real duel. With proper swords, preferably. And Sandor would have won, there was no doubt about it. But Sansa got over Loras surprisingly quickly, all she needed was for Sandor to be there. Sansa didn't have the right appreciation for duels.

When Arya turned around once more, she saw Sandor kissing Sansa, clutching her desperately to his body. They were still ridiculous, but this time, Arya smiled at the sight. She was even better at peace-making than she’d anticipated.


	28. Chapter 28

Arya changed into fresh clothes, but when she returned to the living room, nobody was there and the door to Sansa’s room was closed. What did it mean? Wouldn’t those two talk with her for the rest of the evening? Stranger was already listening behind the door, so Arya joined him and put her ear on the door, too.

She couldn’t hear anything at first, but after a while Sandor finally broke the silence. “Loras is pretty, you know,” he grumbled. It was barely audible. 

“He is,” Sansa agreed. “And you could tell him that, he’ll be very happy to hear it from a man like you.”

“I’m serious, little bird.”

“Me, too. Sandor, do you see now why I was so worried about all those rules of yours?” Sansa luckily articulated much better than Sandor, so Arya could understand her perfectly. “When we can’t talk over the phone about anything important, it ends up like this. You hear something from another source and jump to crazy conclusions.”

“I never jump,” Sandor slurred. “Your sister told me.”

“I know, I know," Sansa sighed. "My siblings tend to be… helpful.”

Arya didn’t like the tone in which Sansa said it, but she decided to take it as a compliment anyway. Sandor drunkenly responded something that Arya couldn’t quite make out. She pressed her ear even further to the door.

Sansa wasn’t very pleased. “It almost sounds like you would have preferred me to date Loras.”

“It would be safer,” Sandor grunted. 

“Sweetheart, I’m his friend. And I’m just giving him advice, that’s all.”

“Legal advice. About reopening a murder case.”

“Loras deserves to know who killed Renly. He can’t move on with his life without knowing the truth. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

“There’s plenty of wrong when you’re getting yourself involved in another investigation,” Sandor managed to form an entire sentence.

“Nobody knows about it! And I gave Loras contact on trustworthy lawyers, they’ll deal with it themselves. Sweetheart, what will you say when I’m a barrister? What will you do if I work against murderers?”

Arya couldn’t understand Sandor’s response. They were both speaking in hushed voices now. It was a horrible habit. They were in their flat for gods’ sake, nobody could hear them anyway, they should really be talking louder.

“Sandor,” Sansa’s moan came loud and clear. Seven hells, couldn’t they do something else for once?

“Sandor?” Sansa’s voice sounded worried now.

“I didn’t fall,” Sandor made it clear.

“Good to know.” There were some unidentifiable sounds and thuds, closely followed by Sansa’s giggling. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“No, I’m not. I love you too bloody much,” Sandor complained.

Arya gasped and there was silence for a moment in the bedroom, too. “What did you say?” Sansa’s voice trembled.

“I don’t know,” Sandor admitted drunkenly. “Something stupid?”

“You said you loved me!”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Hmm. I could use your hair as a shawl,” Sandor discovered.

“Please don’t.”

“It looks like fire, I shouldn’t love it at all. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

Sansa wasn’t as fascinated by the topic as the man was. “Sweetheart, did you mean it? You’ve never spoken about your feelings before.”

“You have illogical hair, little bird,” he continued in his train of thought.

“Sandor, forget about my hair. Is it true what you said?”

“I hate liars, little bird. Have I told you I can smell a lie?”

“You have indeed,” Sansa sighed. “Sandor, focus! Do you love me?”

“Hmm?” Sandor murmured. “That’s a stupid question, little bird, and you know it.”

“Can you answer me that stupid question?”

Arya couldn’t understand Sandor’s response, but it certainly didn’t sound like a great proclamation of love. She only hoped he wasn’t vomiting. Arya would have to have a word with him again, he had no idea how relationships worked. Sandor was annoying as hell, but it would be quite nice to have him in the family. Unfortunately, this wasn’t his most impressive moment.

“Little bird? Why are you taking off my trousers?" Sandor wondered. 

“They’re wet and dirty. You’ll sleep in my bed tonight and I don’t want your trousers there.”

“I see. Should I get naked?” Sandor offered readily.

“No, sweetheart, that won’t be necessary. Perhaps some other time, alright? When you’re not my drunk little puppy.”

“I see. I’m yours?”

“Of course you are. Who else would turn my braid into a shawl?”

Sandor’s quiet response made Sansa giggle again. Drinking had got Sandor into many unnecessary fights in the past, but this new, enamoured Sandor was probably even worse. The Hound wasn’t supposed to talk about love, it was weird. Arya snorted and Stranger stuck his butt in the air, wiggling his tail.

“Arf?” Stranger asked.

Arya hissed at him, hoping he'd shut up. The couple in the bedroom was still whispering and all sorts of suspicious, unidentifiable sounds could be heard, too. 

“Where are you going?” Sandor finally growled again. "Come to me, little bird, I have to congratulate you.”

“I’ll be right back, Sandor," Sansa assured him. "I just need to have a word with my sister. And take a quick shower.”

Arya flinched. Stranger immediately woofed, trying to snitch on her again, so she had to hurry back to her room. Stranger of course followed her, already excited about this game.

“Arya?” Sansa soon called out.

Arya pretended she didn’t hear her. She was in her room, she hadn’t been eavesdropping at all.

“Arya, darling, should I now stand behind your door, too?” Sansa asked pleasantly. “I’m not sure how this new form of communication works.”

“What?” Arya peeked out of her room, only to meet Sansa’s piercing gaze. Seven hells. Was Sansa a detective, too? When the redhead put her hands on her hips, it didn’t really look like she was going to thank Arya for the help. The world was an ungrateful place.


	29. Chapter 29

Sansa was being insufferable as usual, she didn’t want to see reason at all. “This night was supposed to be so amazing,” she kept whinging. “I’ve passed all my exams, Sandor is back home… Everything was supposed to be pretty and special and you got Sandor drunk!” 

“He got drunk himself,” Arya grumbled.

“Only after you told him I was dating Loras!”

“So what? You can’t expect me to cover for your affairs!”

“Affairs? What affairs?” Sansa raised her voice, obviously losing the argument. “Me meeting with my friends?”

“…and keeping it a secret from Sandor,” Arya specified.

“I’m not allowed to talk with him about much on phone. Everything could be hacked, if you haven’t noticed!” Sansa always found some stupid excuse. “And no matter what you think, it’s not your place to go running to Sandor, badmouthing me!”

“I wasn’t badmouthing you,” Arya grunted. Alright, perhaps she shouldn’t have let the information slip. It was a little mistake on her part. It was even possible she regretted it. But Sansa and Sandor had made up and learnt from their mistakes. They’d cleared the air thanks to Arya and avoided future misunderstandings. There was no need to make so much fuss about it. “And anyway, I don’t have time for your mess, I have to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?” Sansa looked down at her. It wasn’t fair she was taller.

“For the night of course. You remember I have a night combat training, don’t you?”

“I remember,” Sansa noted with bitterness. “Me and Sandor have a flat all for ourselves tonight. If only you hadn’t got him drunk.”

“He’s a big boy, I’m pretty sure he can make his own choices,” Arya retorted.

“Little bird?” a loud groan came from Sansa’s room.

“I’m coming, sweetheart!”

But Sandor stumbled into the living room first. Sandor. Without his shirt. Without trousers. Without socks. Arya had seen Sandor shirtless on a few occasions, but seeing him just in his pants was the stuff of nightmares. He didn’t have a chiselled, athletic body like Gendry, he simply looked like an enormous, flesh-tearing monster. And bloody hells, he must have stolen all the Stranger’s hair. Poor man, he really couldn’t get any uglier, could he? What if Sansa would lose interest in Sandor? Nobody could blame her, Sandor could easily crush her to death. Couldn’t he do… something? Something to look a bit human? 

“Is everything alright?” Sandor looked around in suspicion. 

Nothing was alright. He needed to get acquainted with wax. Sansa perhaps liked the feeling of safety his presence offered her, but that didn’t mean she wanted a furry giant in her bed. As far as Arya knew, Sansa had never been particularly attracted to bears.

Sansa sighed. “Everything is great. Please, Sandor, you need to get some rest.”

“Didn’t you call for help?” Sandor wondered.

“No, I didn’t.”

“But you would, wouldn’t you? If someone tries to hurt you, I’ll kill them,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll kill their corpse as well,” Sandor quickly offered.

“Sandor, everything is fine,” Sansa assured him, gently touching his chest. Her hand immediately sunk into the depth of black fur. Yuck, yuck. Yuck. Arya couldn’t be more grateful that Gendry didn’t have a single hair on his chest. 

To her credit, Sansa didn’t jerk away, instead she lovingly looked up. “Sweatheart, I’m just talking with Arya.”

Arya shook her head. “I’m not talking, I’m leaving.”

“Good idea,” Sandor agreed and turned away from her, bending down to nuzzle his face into Sansa’s hair. “Come, little bird, I’ll keep you so safe,” he murmured.

He sounded weirdly affectionate and it creeped the hell out of Arya. It was so much better when he was sober and growling, trying to keep his relationship a secret. Now he was bent down like an idiot, sniffing Sansa’s hair like a bloody dog and tenderly caressing her body, making a fool of himself. Arya knew exactly what Sansa’s type was. Sandor should be pretty, all dapper and chic, like a prince from a fairy tale. He instead looked like a monster from a horror. And he should be tough and manly to make Sansa feel protected, while Sandor almost melted at the sight of her. Everything was wrong. How should Arya even make Sandor’s relationship work? At least he now brought a smile back to Sansa’s face and the redhead quickly forgot she was angry at her sister. Perhaps Arya could work with that.

“Enjoy your training,” Sansa told her instead of a goodbye.

“Don’t try to do any stupid tricks with a gun,” Sandor added and lifted up Sansa’s long braid, joyfully tickling his own nose with its end.

Arya curled her lip and rather started packing her things. The couple fortunately quickly disappeared into Sansa’s room again. Arya tried not to pay attention to the giggles and growls coming from the bedroom. She had her training to focus on, she didn’t care about anything else now. And she was still a little pissed at Sansa for all the scolding, too. Nevertheless, what in the seven hells were those loud thuds? Were they boxing? No matter. If those two got hurt, it wasn’t her responsibility. Arya ignored the odd moan and left. Not her responsibility at all.


	30. Chapter 30

Arya was the best detective. She should have tracked down one fictional criminal during her training, and she tracked down two. One of her classmates wasn’t all that thrilled that she’d stolen his criminal, but that was just a bonus. The classmate was a disgusting bully, he could be glad she let him off this lightly. Sandor would probably snarl at her that she’d turned the training into chaos, but his eyes would smile with pride, she knew. 

The training finished earlier than expected, so everybody had to wait for someone to pick them up. Not Arya, though. She didn’t even have to turn to her guard. The poor man had been posing as her classmate for the entire semester and they spent so much time together most people assumed they were dating. But Arya had someone better waiting for her this morning. Gendry turned up in his uniform, looking like star of an action film. Was it just Arya, or did uniforms objectively make all men look sexier? Gendry certainly didn’t need it, but it didn’t hurt, either.

When Arya bent down to collect all her things, she had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched, so she quickly turned around. Gendry looked up from somewhere and blushed, as if he’d been caught stealing cakes. 

“What?” Arya eyed him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Gendry peeped. “I mean,” he cleared his throat. “Those trousers look… really… well… good? They look good on you.”

Arya frowned. Was he making fun of her? Her trousers were dirty, she looked like a mess and she knew it. There was no need to point it out. He should be praising her detective skills now, not jesting about her looks.

“I’ve spent the last ten hours running through the forest, trying to catch someone,” she snapped. “If you’d tried it, you wouldn’t look so polished, either.”

“Yeah, but you look amazing like this,” he grinned. “You could live in a forest for years and still look like you’re the queen there.”

Gendry sometimes really had a stupid sense of humour. Arya had tried to ignore it so far, but one day, when she wasn’t so tired, she would probably have to yell at him about it. Just a little. For an hour, or two. To make her opinion clear. But now it wasn’t the best time. Two of the younger instructors were standing there. Those perfectly blonde girls in perfectly clean uniforms were ogling Gendry like predators. And Arya wasn’t about to make herself look insecure about her looks. She ignored the mud she was covered in and she playfully rose onto her toes to kiss Gendry. When he took her bag, she wrapped her arm around his waist and with a confident smile she lead her man away. He himself eagerly pulled her closer to his muscled body, grinning like an idiot. And Arya dearly hoped everybody saw it. 

Arya really wanted to get rid of the guard, so that she could properly remind Gendry of who his girlfriend was. They had gone swimming on the weekend and Gendry had seen her in a bikini for the first time. The way he kissed her that day was probably better than shagging. She wouldn’t be adverse to repeating the experience. And this time she’d really, really take off her bra. She wasn’t afraid to do that, not at all. If Gendry didn’t like her tiny breasts, he was an idiot and she didn’t care. Everybody couldn’t look like Sansa, alright? Arya narrowed her eyes at Gendry. Why did he look so damn happy?

Once they got to her flat, they finally left the security officer behind the door and she could even take off the horrible wig she’d been wearing as a part of her new identity. Gendry immediately brushed his fingers through her sweaty hair and Arya cringed internally. She shouldn’t have let him pick her up, she should have at least taken a shower before meeting him. Besides, her real hair was much shorter and much darker than the wig, what if her preferred her disguise?

“You have no idea how sexy you look today,” Gendry murmured, urgently kissing her along the jawline.

She had the perfect idea. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes dirty, she had no make up on snd she probably stank more an entire team of hockey players. If Gendry kept this up any longer, she would yell at him today already.

“You…” she stopped herself before even forming a thought. As he pulled her close, she felt something odd. Was Gendry hard? Why in the seven hells would he be hard? She wasn’t wearing the bikini now! Did he have some weird kink she didn’t know about?

Before Arya could decide whether to be flattered or appalled, her sister interrupted her. Again.

“Who is it?” Sansa called out from her room.

“Who do you think?” Arya growled.

Sansa opened the door, her sleepy face peeking out just a little. “Oh. Good morning,” she blushed. “It’s not even six, Arya! Weren’t you supposed to come back at ten?”

“We caught the criminals faster,” Arya informed her proudly. “I caught two of them!”

“Great,” Sansa didn’t seem to appreciate Arya’s success enough. “So… You’re not going anywhere now?”

Arya pursed her lips. “No, I need some rest. Do you have a problem with it?”

“No, not at all.”

Sansa was mostly hidden by the door, but even like this Arya could see that Sansa was wearing something unusual. Was it… was it Sandor’s shirt? The redhead had more beautiful clothing than anyone in Lannisport, why in the seven hells was she wearing Sandor’s stinky shirt? It was ridiculously large on her, there could be three Sansas living in that thing. And why wasn’t Sandor the one wearing it, what had Sansa done to the poor Hound?

“So… have a good morning, you two!” Sansa wished them and closed the door again, not even wasting time on some polite chirping she loved so much. Everybody was crazy today. Arya had had enough of a detective success for one day, but she needed to investigate this. Something was going on.


	31. Chapter 31

When Arya opened the door to Sansa’s bedroom, she was greeted by the sight of an unbelievable mess. It was hard to believe that Sansa the neat freak could even look around herself without getting a heart attack. It was not only the heap of clothes by the bed, some of Sansa’s books had been thrown on the floor, too, and a pretty stool in the corner of her room had been broken into pieces. Who in the seven hells had shattered it? And why?

“Shh,” Sansa hissed. “Be quiet! What are you doing here?”

Arya starred at the furry thing that was so much bigger than Sansa’s bed. “He’s still here?” 

“Of course he is, don’t you dare to wake him up,” Sansa sat down on the bed and petted Sandor’s hairy chest with a blissful smile. 

Sandor immediately grabbed her hand and nuzzled into it. “Mine,” he murmured and Sansa giggled as if it was the cleverest thing.

Arya rolled her eyes. Alright, at least Sandor hadn’t completely ruined his chances by his drunk, stool-breaking antics. But he was currently taking up about half of Sansa’s room. His legs were awkwardly dangling off the bed, his trousers were hanging on the back of Sansa’s chair, not to mention Stranger, who’d basically replaced the entire carpet.

“And where did you sleep?” Arya inquired.

Sansa raised her brows. “Where do you think?”

Well, obviously not in the bed, since there was absolutely no space left for her. There was no room even for most of Sandor’s body. But Arya didn’t want to admit she didn’t know the answer, so she ignored the question altogether.

“Doesn’t he have to work today?” Arya asked.

“No, Sandor is free until the end of the week. But you said you needed some rest, Arya,” Sansa reminded her.

Sandor’s scars were completely exposed now and Arya felt the urge to cover them with his hair. She’d always wondered how he’d got the scars and why he hadn’t had a proper reconstructive surgery. But now that Sandor was with Sansa, his scars had become an even bigger concern. It was entirely possible that Sansa would wake up one day and realize she was actually repulsed by the man. It would only be natural. And it would break Sandor’s heart.

As if on cue, Sansa tenderly caressed the man’s burnt cheek. Sandor moved closer to her and the bed loudly protested. He was too big for normal furniture. And it was partially his own fault, because Sandor had never even cared about his diet. It had always irritated Arya, she’d tried to educate him about nutrition countless times. But the man thought that just because he was so much stronger than anyone he knew, he didn’t need to worry about his health. It was stupid. Arya herself did everything to stay in the best shape and Gendry was luckily like that, too. But Sandor ate too much and trained even more, never stopping to think about his muscle definition, or proper fitness. And now a bed would collapse under his weight. Hopefully it would teach him a lesson.

“Is there something wrong?” Gendry appeared in the door.

Sansa raised her brows. “How many more of you will come barging into my bedroom at six a.m.?” she asked dryly.

“Sorry,” Gendry murmured apologetically. “Should I go?”

“Ah, nobody is saying that, Gendry,” Sansa smiled at him. “But I understand if you want to go home now. It was really nice seeing you again anyway!” 

“Oh,” Gendry blinked. “I didn’t mean… oh.”

Arya nodded. She needed to deal with her sister now and investigate the case of a broken stool. “I’ll call you in the evening, Gendry,” she turned around to kiss her boyfriend.

“Oh,” Gendry swallowed “Alright, then. Well… have a good day, I guess.”

“You, too, Gendry,” Sansa waved at him. Arya didn’t like that gesture, it was enough that Sansa was parading herself in front of Gendry dressed just in a man’s shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she couldn’t be showing her long legs in a more tantalizing way, either. Why didn’t Arya inherit those legs, too? Why were the short legs the only thing she’d inherited from the otherwise beautiful Tullies? Sansa had got everything else. Arya huffed in annoyance and followed Gendry to at least give him a proper goodbye. Thanks to this intervention he left beaming again, promising her a much more interesting afternoon. Once he was gone, Arya prepared her sister perfect cappuccino to make the interrogation a bit friendlier and completely inconspicuous. Arya wasn’t nosy at all, she just wanted to be well-informed. And besides, she'd been the one who bought the stool for Sansa, so logically, Arya had the right to know everything now.


End file.
